


The Perils of Petticoats

by DarkAthena (seraphim_grace)



Series: A/B/O bodice rippers [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Allison Argent, Alpha Derek, Alpha Scott McCall, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Regency, F/F, F/M, M/M, Mistaken identities, Omega Kira Yukimura, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Other, Romantic Comedy, alternate universe - restoration comedy, cross dressing, restoration comedy, she stoops to conquer au, stiles wears a dress for most of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-20 21:57:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3666714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraphim_grace/pseuds/DarkAthena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A She Stoops to Conquer AU</p><p>Stiles is an omega who is bullied by his beta stepmother into wearing a dress during the day, so when his new suitor turns out to be painfully shy around society he pretends to be a servant girl (a homely one) to get to know the real person, whilst his step mother tries to marry her alpha daughter to her omega ward despite neither of them want it, and the sheriff (called Josiah) tries to remain constantly drunk for the entire weekend.</p><p>Complete</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In this society (as in Pride and Place) Omega are automatically minor gentry with the title Vidame (masc) or Vidama (fem) they have the low pointed ears - like elves in LotR, where alphas have high pointed ears (like Mr Spock) betas have rounded ears, but it's considered polite to cover the ears.  
> Omega cannot inherit and cannot marry betas (they can't get them pregnant so it's illegal) but alphas can marry betas, it is not accepted for alphas to marry alphas.
> 
> As this is set in the eighteenth century it is not a regency au, but instead the earlier Restoration AU so think Outlander or Poldark for the styles, not Jane Austen.
> 
> She stoops to conquer is a very famous play by Oliver Goldsmith and has never really fallen out of fashion, and I thought why not

Sir Peter Hale was married. This had come as a surprise to most of society as he was an inveterate rake and it was generally accepted that the industrialist’s wealth would go to his nephew, or he would legitimise one of the bastards he had almost certainly left strewn across the countryside. So his marriage surprised everyone, and the omega in question, a beauty of a spitting hell-cat with soft red curls, and a tongue as sharp as his own, was as much of a surprise.

So Peter, with the zeal of someone drunk on connubial bliss, wanted everyone around him to be similarly arraigned and embarked upon a campaign of matchmaking that had most of his peers, alpha rakes every one, doing their best to avoid him - even going so far as to duck him in the street. His lovely bride, Lydia, kept a copy of De Brett's peerage, annotated with the virtues and vices of every suitable candidate, those who were unsuitable had their names struck out, enough to make them beholden to the Hales for the rest of their natural lives and then some more. Although it did not count towards their match making enterprise it also contained such information as which married alphas had beta children outside of the marriage sheets, who owed what to whom and whether the debt could be purchased, and whose enterprises were likely to fail due to failure on behalf of the alphas such as gambling debts, because Peter’s bride was nothing if not thorough.

Peter did not turn to his wife’s volume to select a bride for his nephew, that she approved the match was a pleasant caveat though. The Countess of Ellesmere, Frideswed, was without issue and her heir was the omega son of her beta sister, Claudia, or it would be as soon as he married. The omega in question, Melchizadek, was well educated and fair, and, best of all, unknown to society as he had only just turned seventeen and his father kept him cloistered in Cornwall. He was, according to his father, the image of his mother with her fine eyes, memorable mouth, and her dark hair. Peter remembered Claudia Ellesmere fondly from his youth and that made him think highly of the boy. He was also said ot be quick witted and capable of ruling a household, and Josiah Stilinski, the boy’s beta father because occasionally beta children of the aristocracy whelped omega or alpha to everyone's surprise, had included a miniature of the boy with a lock of his hair, as dark as Claudia’s had been, in response to Peter’s inquiry.

Yes, Peter used, looking at the portrait of the boy, he would do nicely, charming and amiable where Derek was taciturn and shy, and they would have handsome children for his own children with Lydia, which he had not been blessed with yet, to play with.

He lifted his pen to put together a quick note for Josiah, informing him that Derek would be visiting him within the fortnight and that, baring disasters such as the two despising each other on first sight, there was no impediment to their marriage, because after all love in marriage was entirely a matter of chance and years of comfortable companionship was certainly more favourable than a love match. He didn't think Derek would be gauche enough to love his bride, but Cornwall, where the county of Ellesmere was, was a distance from London if it did happen.

Could there be a more advantageous match, Peter wondered to himself, than that of a penniless peer and a rich gentleman, Melchizadek had a title to sweeten the marriage bed and Derek had money - it was the ideal.


	2. Chapter 2

Vidame Melchizadek Stilinski made displeased noise as Heather, the house-girl responsible for making sure that the boy was dressed amongst her other duties, pulled his corset laces tight to give him the illusion of a waist as he held unto the bedpost to give her some measure of resistance.

As a boy of twelve autumns, Melchizadek, more commonly called Stiles, had entered into a bargain with his step-mother, Victoria, that he would spend the hours between breakfast and supper in the dress and manner of a beta servant girl, complete with underthings that he might learn humility, in exchange for his liberty throughout the day as long as his lessons were complete. Her intention had been that the boy would be too embarrassed to leave the house, but Stiles continued his roaming of his family estates when the weather permitted it with Heather, just now he was wearing a dress.

One that even now Heather was forcing and tying him into, after the corset came the bum roll tied at his waist, then the two petticoats, a pair of pockets, then the skirt before the bodice of the dress, before Heather tucked a fichu about his shoulders tucking it into the neckline of the dress to cover up his complete lack of breasts, before using a comb and water to scrape his hair back into a cap the bands of which tied over his ears to hide the omega point, completing the transformation from an omega boy of middling station to a homely beta girl, who was a bit too tall and husky for popular fashion. Nevertheless, Seth, one of the men in the local town, had offered that marriage as Stiles looked to be strong and capable of lifting, and Seth was a widower that had five children and needed the help.

It had not been the most flattering proposal.

Fully dressed, and with a shawl about his shoulders to help guard against the bite of the winter morning, he went down the steps to the main parlour, the few servants in Hardcastle Hall- the house given to his mother upon her marriage for the use of her family - were well used to this behaviour so did not even remark upon it as he passed them, before kissing his father on the cheek and falling unto the couch in an indecorous flump of limbs.

Victoria’s ward, Kira Yukimura, was sat in a much more maidenly manner in a chair in a pool of sunlight as she worked upon the embroidery hoop in her hands. Unlike Stiles Kira was not put in the clothes of a servant, as Victoria’s plans for her didn't necessarily involve her being humble, but instead marrying Victoria’s alpha daughter fro her previous marriage, Allison.

Josiah Stilinski and Victoria Argent both lost their spouses to death at about the same time, and faced with the prospect of raising blooded children alone, knowing Josiah had property but little money, and Victoria had some money but no property, both agreed to a loveless marriage on behalf of the children. Allison was a year older than Stiles and could vaguely remember her alpha father, where Stiles' only memories of his mother were confused with the miniature of her that his father carried in his fob watch.

Kira had come into their household not long after the marriage when her mother, Noshiko, had died in a storm of the coast. She currently wore a pleasant striped dress that a few years of hard wear would become Heather's when it was no longer fit for Kira, and Stiles noted this content in the knowledge that he wouldn't be expected to share it.

“Stiles," his father said as he lowered his papers to look at the indelicate sprawl of his son. “I have decided that now you are seventeen that you should be considering marriage, I know that you do not care to think of such things, being young yet, but I will not live forever and your aunt, Frideswed, cannot accept you into her home if you are unwed, therefore if I were to die tomorrow, you, your stepmother, and sisters would be left penniless and homeless.”

Stiles knew this was not quite true, Hardcastle Hall was his own held in trust by his father, and his mother had left him a small allowance of fifteen pounds a year that she had called pin money, and as soon as he married he would inherit, well his alpha would inherit as omega could not, not only Hardcastle from his father but Ellesmere from his aunt. However his father was a little prone to hyperbole when he talked about the future, so Stiles didn't argue with him. Arguing hadn't gotten him out of “indulging” Victoria about the dresses after all.

“You wouldn't mention this, father, unless Victoria had a candidate." Omega were coddled and it was well known that they liked to speak their mind, it was currently the plot of many comedies on the London stage. Stiles was no different, but being encouraged to speak your mind did not mean that the omega was listened to.

“Victoria suggested for you a fine gentleman from Scotland, of course with the questions about Scottish loyalty I dismissed the idea immediately.” Stiles knew his father, that was the excuse he had given his wife, his own issues with the match were probably to do with the distance involved, it was unlikely that he would want his only child the complete length of the country away, even if Stiles and Victoria clashed over most everything.

“And your candidate, father?” Stiles pressed.

“The nephew of a dear friend of your mother, God rest her soul, do you remember, Sir Peter?” Stiles admitted that he did not. “The alpha is barely a handful of years older than yourself and is said to be fair handsome and was educated at Cambridge. He owns an orchard barely twenty miles from here amongst his other properties.” Which meant that Stiles was not to be expected to choose to live too far from his father, or better yet in Josiah’s mind he could manage his estates from Hardcastle, so they could live with him and Stiles would not need to leave. “He is the politician Talia Hale's son, but has no pretensions to politics, and it is said that he is shy and quiet.”

“Do you mean Derek?” Kira asked, looking up from her embroidery at last, she rested the hoop against her skirts, "I met him at the rout Lady Groves gave in Truro this last spring. I was there for a new pair of gowns, we only spoke briefly but he seemed most pleasant.”

It was a constant bone of contention that Kira was allowed, even encouraged, to go to Truro, where Stiles was considered too flighty and untrustworthy by Victoria even though there was a year between their ages, Stiles being the youngest. Victoria's intentions that Kira marry her Allison were hardly secret, so Kira was allowed to attend Cornwall society because everyone knew she was engaged, despite that neither party liked the idea at all, but Kira was Victoria’s ward, and Allison, like Stiles, could not inherit until she married, and the the thousand pounds a year that Kira owned made her a fine prospect for marriage, even without the exoticism of her alpha mother’s Nihonjin features.

“He is handsomely complected with a fine clear forehead," Kira said, “but painfully shy and most uncomfortable in society. He is most unlike his mother and uncle, but I am told that shyness most often appears as waspishness and foul temper.”

Stiles made a noise not unlike the ones he made when Heather chided him for eating too many sweets as she tried to lace him into his corsets.

“Nevertheless," Josiah said, “you will at least meet the gentleman.”

For a second Stiles wondered if he would finally see Truro, or better yet, London, when his father added, “he is coming to visit within the se’ennight.” Stiles made the noise again, “even if the match is poor I expect you to comport yourself as befits the omega son of a gentleman. I fully intend to have the same conversation with Allison.” Allison was fast becoming a rake and only the lack of her inheritance had stopped her leaving her mother behind and moving to London. Victoria’s control over Allison’s inheritance until she came of age or married was the only reason that she remained although it had stirred a deep resentment between them. Had Victoria arranged the match Allison would have destroyed it purely for spite. Until Allison was of age at twenty five she could not deny her mother or refuse to marry Kira for fear of being cut off.

“Yes, Father," Stiles said, although mentally he was running through all the problems a guest would cause, because Victoria ran the house like a military engagement, but to impress the suitor with Stiles ability to run a household she would have him arrange at least one formal finer, and how it was probably best if Allison wasn't summoned back, just in case.

Victoria Argent-Stilinski was considered a fine figure of a woman which Stiles learned as a small child meant that she was a termagant of Amazonian proportions, and no one had the temerity to say so to her face. She was not beautiful, per se, but had a hard faced handsomeness with an unwavering gaze that brought grown alphas to their knees. Although she was fierce with little give in her what softness she had was given first and foremost to her daughter, then what was left belonged to Stiles and Kira. It had been a cruel twist of fate that saw her a beta woman, because as an alpha, Stiles knew, she would have ruled the world.

Stiles did love her, she was after all the only mother that he could remember, and there were gentle memories as well as the constant bickering, but for all of his petty deficiencies Stiles understood that much of what motivated Victoria was fear. She had loved her husband with the fierce efficiency she gave to Hardcastle Hall and his family had excluded her because she was a beta, although it was said he loved her well enough in return. When he died they had refused to take her, or her alpha daughter in, because they hadn't wanted the stain of a beta in their household. They had stripped her of almost everything that her husband had left for their care and Stiles knew that Victoria believed, although she almost certainly tried to dissuade herself of the information, that if Stiles married, that when Hardcastle Hall became his instead of his father’s, that he would cast her out. That it was untrue did not make Victoria’s fear any less, for Stiles could promise but his alpha might not agree.

So she planned to marry Kira, who had nearly a thousand pounds a year, to her feckless daughter because if nothing else it made sure that the two of them would be taken care of. It would have been Stiles if the law had not considered them siblings.

Understanding Victoria, however, did not make it easier to live with her.

“I’ll tell Mrs Havers to get in something special from the butchers for our guest, and perhaps soak some fruit in brandy and tea for that special loaf that she makes.” Stiles told his father, doing the calculations in his head, the calf was just past the age for slaughter but not old enough to be slaughtered for beef as opposed to veal, but the piglets were pleasantly plump, and failing that she could always send the boy to Callum, the gamekeeper, for a few pheasants or a brace of rabbits. A sen'night was not enough time to pickle the red cabbage that was a staple of their diet, but perhaps if it was candied with red wine it would be more favourable to a London palate. If they slaughtered the calf of the day he arrived they could serve him fresh calf's liver fried with apples and onions.

“It’s good to see you take this seriously.” Josiah said, "I expected more of a battle about this.”

“It might come to nothing," Stiles said, finally closing his legs under his skirts and taking the posture of a young maiden with ankles crossed, demure and polite. “But he’ll carry back words of a warm welcome at Hardcastle Hall.” Then he grinned, “I’ll go give Heather a hand clearing out the blue room.” The Hall only had one guest room, although there were others in the building none were set up for lodgings at all. “The sooner it's done the sooner we can go down to Bunny Halford's, her bitch finally whelped so she's got a houseful of puppies.”

Josiah shook his head as if in despair but it was fond, “there’ll be no bringing one back this time," he told him, “there’s enough mouths in this house as it is, and Lady and Maida are close to whelping.” The way he said it held the expectation that Stiles was going to get himself a puppy.

 ---

“Stiles," Kira called after him as he tugged his shawl tighter about his shoulders, “can i have a quick word?” She could see Stiles pause wavering between the desire to listen and the need to be outside doing something. “I’ll only keep you a moment," she continued, “it’s just that there is something about Derek Hale that I think it will be good for you to hear.”

“Yes?” he asked, although he had little desire to pursue the match and knew that not only did Bunny Halford have a litter of new puppies but several jars of her own scrumpy, a thick cloudy cider that was sweet and guaranteed to have him listing home. He could invite her, he supposed.

“Derek is shy," she said, “but only amongst society, he’s quite rich so when he walks into a room everyone sees him for his money, and he's been used for it and hurt, but once he thinks you’re not interested in that he's a different person entire, so don't be off-put if he's a bit of an ass at first, he’s not when you get to know him.” She offered him a smile, “don't rule him out because he's a little rude, and looks like he wants to bolt. I think the two of you will suit well enough, and remember, Stiles, you’ll need to keep the puppy from Victoria for at least a week if you want to keep it." Kira, at least, knew Stiles well.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I'd update on thursday's but it was ready and I thought why wait, it will still update on thursday but it will be the next chapter, if not the one after that because I'm going really well on this one

Allison Argent was not drunk, she was however, at that stage of inebriation where one could rightly be called merry. The evening was turning out to be quite pleasant indeed despite the storm that was whipping about outside. The food was rough but food, cold sliced sausage with a sharp white cheese on sweet rye bread, the rum was plentiful and cut with sweet scrumpy and thickened with honey, and there was a pretty beta boy on her lap of the type that she preferred, and the weather foul enough that she would not be expected at Hardcastle Hall until morning, and Isaac was more than happy to share his bed for the night.

She had no plans for anything else when the two gentlemen came into the taproom of the alehouse and asked if they were near to Hardcastle Hall and if not was there an inn nearabouts that they might continue in the morning. Even through the pleasant haze of the evening Allison realised that this must be Stiles’ suitor come from London and the opportunity for a little harmless mischief presented itself. Emptying her glass and with a promise to return to Isaac’s pleasant charms she approached the two of them.

Both men were dark haired, although one was fair skinned and the other had a Spanish complexion. The fair man was broader about the chest and shoulders with a narrower waist, he had light coloured eyes and a neatly trimmed beard, although his eyebrows were thicker than fashion preferred. The other, another alpha, was only slightly slimmer with lazy brown eyes and a crooked jaw. Neither of them were to her taste for the rare occasions she dallied with alphas. She wondered which of them Josiah intended for his son, and if the other was Victoria’s attempt to present a better option, or to derail the marriage. Allison did not care either way because she had a better plan to have some fun with them first.

“There is a small inn not far from here," she said cutting off the barkeep, “barely a mile if you don't mind riding in the rain. It’s an old manor left empty after the war and it's been turned into an inn so they don't take lodgers here." A few coppers would appease old Daehler about the lodgings he was going to lose. “If you give me a few moments to finish my supper I can take you, if not it is a simple journey, take the easterly road until you reach the large oak and the drive is on your left, they keep a lantern burning at the postern gate all night so you can’t miss it, even in this weather.”

“Thank you," the Spanish looking gentleman said, appraising her even as he lowered his head in a polite bow. He had an eye for girls, Allison thought, hoping this one was the suitor, it would be hilarious.

"I’m sure we will find it easily enough.” The other said, his voice softer than Allison expected, “and then we will be able to arrive at Hardcastle fresh in the morning.”

“Is it too far to push on now," the darker man asked her, “I am eager to meet Vidama Yukimura after our correspondence." Allison nearly clapped her hands together in glee, it was better than she had imagined. If this one had come to marry Kira then it meant that Victoria could not force her to marry Allison. Victoria had planned it for the two of them since they were small children as Kira not only had a large dowry of nearly three thousand pounds but nearly one thousand pounds a year, and a collection of jewellery from her deceased mother that Victoria held in trust. Kira and Allison had agreed, years before that Allison would reject her as soon as she was of age and out of the clutches of her mother, but how clever of her, Allison thought, to find herself a suitor without Victoria knowing.

“You are well off course," Allison lied, “and with the weather it would be best to wait until morning so you can read the signs to get there.”

“Come along, McCall," the broad man said pulling his hat back on over his wet hair, “it shall not take us too long to meet your beloved," it was said with the exasperated fondness of one who had long practise with this sort of thing.

"I wish you luck in your endeavours." Allison said with a bright smile that showcased her dimples, even as she pictured all the terrible ways that this was going to play out with a trickster’s manic glee, and better yet she might escape her mother’s plans for her marriage, and Isaac would be a pleasant way to spend the night, indeed.

—-

The rain was sheeting down and sharp as needles by the time that Hale and McCall had reached the house. Although they did not know it as such Hardcastle Hall had been a medieval manor and shale barn that had, in the prosperous years of a Tudor monarch, grown together with an Elizabethan frontage that faced the beautiful manicured gardens that had been the pride of Lady Claudia Ellesmere-Stilinski, although her love for them had not passed to her only child they had been kept in her memory.

Approaching late at night, in a storm, from the rear path, it would later be easy to see how such a mistake could be made, the wooden staircases around the back courtyard were well worn with use and there was a washing line, empty now, hanging between the left wall and a post that thrummed in the wind like a lute string. There was a sheep dip, now partially flooded, and a large pig trough although it looked like it hadn't been used for purpose in years. The door that they rapped upon was old, vaulted and studded with Florin spikes and without a knocker. Even with their leather greatcoats and wool hats the two were sodden, miserable and cold.

Mrs Havers, the hall's cook, had been making bread, intending to leave it to rise overnight for the morning’s bake before sunrise, and was not expecting anyone to rap on her kitchen door, especially in the middle of a storm. So she left her worktable to open it, wiping her flour covered hands on her apron to leave two white handprints, thinking it was perhaps a traveller who had gotten very lost and needed tea and shelter from the storm.

The two men looked like nothing more than drowned rats and the kitchen girl, normally a lazy child who was called Demelza, ran upstairs to get Mr Stilinski.

Mrs Havers, unsure what else to do, invited them in. "I do not think much of your welcome,” the bearded man said, taking off his hat and shaking off the worst of the rain from it unto her clean floor, “not even leaving someone to welcome in guests.” Mrs Havers was so shocked at his words that she, never one to hold her tongue, was speechless - then she set loose a flurry of motion, getting Callum to fetch their horses from where he sat against the fire nursing his cups, the scullery boy to set out cups of small beer and plates of meat porridge, as someone else, Heather perhaps, because Mrs Havers didn’t stop to look, ran to check that there were two guest rooms available, and perhaps find someone to help carry the old furniture out of the other and quickly make the bed. She had just finished arranging this when Mr Stilinski appeared in her kitchen.

On the whole Mrs Havers did not care to have people who were not at work in her kitchen, even Callum was given tasks when he came in for his evening sup, albeit they were things like make sure the bellows keep the fire going. She kept it clean and orderly with a place for everything and everything in it's place, and two strange wet men were not in place.

—-

Josiah Stilinski was disrupted at his pipe and evening glass of port, snuck past his son who maintained he shouldn't drink it as it made him flatulent, so his immediate reaction to the door opening was to hide the glass. “Mr Josiah," the girl, Demelza said ignoring the glass with practise, “your guests ‘ave arrived, a whole se’ennight early, they are in the kitchen with Mrs ‘avers, and she ‘ates ‘aving people she knows in ‘er kitchen, is worse when it be strangers, she’s beside ‘erself with the bread ‘alf done on the table.”

Josiah pulled on his coat, pocketing his pipe, before he swallowed down the last of the port, putting the glass down on his desk and going to the kitchen certain that Mrs Havers would have more than just a bee in her bonnet about anyone in her kitchen who wasn't supposed to be there, let alone strange men from London and she would let Josiah have it whilst wringing her apron like it was a neck.

By the time he reached the kitchen both men had been divested of their soaked greatcoats and sat in front of the fire with cups of small beer, well one of them was whilst the other was asking Mrs Havers how much longer it would be before their rooms were ready because the hospitality that they had been offered was poor, and really the guest, the larger of the two with a well trimmed beard, wanted to go to bed that this whole business could be taken care of as soon as possible.

Josiah bristled at the insult to his son, because it was the bearded man who matched Sir Peter’s description of his nephew who was said to be well mannered if shy, and this man was neither. "Is it too much to ask for hot water, a rack for clothes to dry on and a clean bed?” the man, Hale, continued, “and you, sir," he turned to Josiah, “your staff are poorly equipped, and you do not welcome guests as is normal.”

“you, sir,” Josiah answered, “are impudent beyond the point of civility for someone who arrives unexpected at night. I am of half a mind to turn you and your companion back into the storm.”

The young man sat by the fire with his cup of small beer and plate of meat porridge wisely kept his own counsel. “Perhaps this is what passes for courtesy in Cornwall, such would not be acceptable in London.”

“Derek," the young man finally intervened, “we are not in London, and they have given us food and lodging, do not antagonise our hosts, the rain is biting sharp and I don’t wish to soon return to it.” He offered Mrs Haver’s a puppy dog smile, “Madame, you run a lovely kitchen, and your meat porridge is most welcome on a terrible night.”

Mrs Havers might have softened but Josiah would not. He had no idea who this young man was or why he was come to Hardcastle Hall, but his companion had, in the space of a few moments, insulted his home, his household and his son, the very boy he had come to court in hopes of marriage. He would have his bath and bed, and in the morning, when the storm outside, which was just getting it's head, abided, he would be asked to leave.

—-

Derek was led to his room by the scullery boy carrying a lantern and his saddle bags through the grey halls of the building, built entirely as it was from Cornish slate it was a dark building, but there were carpets laid out on the tile floor, but although clean they were worn from years of use. He thought it strange that an inn would bother with such things, but his boots had leaked so even on board his horse his stockings were soaked and any his toes squelched with every step so he gave little thought to the carpets, which did little to ease his distemper. Part of him was envious of McCall for whom a cup of small beer and a plate of meat porridge could restore to a fine humour. Before now he had seen McCall genuinely content with nothing more than a blanket by the fireplace, it meant that he could be easily taken advantage of if Derek were not there to intervene on his behalf.

The room was small but pleasantly appointed with a wooden frame over the bed to hold aloft the curtains and a matching counterpane upon the bed. There were a few shelves with books and toys that looked to have been well loved and left there for at least a year, so the child had outgrown them. He felt a little guilt that he had clearly displaced the innkeeper’s child from their bed, but the guilt was short lived and supplanted by the presence of a wooden bench draped in blankets and piled with pillows in front of a fire lit long enough that the room had no lingering chill despite the storm that was wuthering about the building and the rain that rattled the glass in it's frame against the wooden shutters. Derek was quite sure now that the child had been ousted, probably because the linens on the bed were fresh.

Even that momentary guilt was utterly erased by the sign of a hook beside the fire for his wet stocking, and he stripped, collapsing into the bench with a sigh of pleasure after taking off his wet pants and waist coat, so he wore only his shirt - the only item of clothing left dry, scrunched his toes into the woollen carpet, and relaxed, finally warming through.

—-

Josiah Stilinski slammed into the family parlour in a sour mood, Stiles, who was reading aloud from Spenser's “Faerie Queene”, went quiet, surprised at the breach. Kira and Victoria were sat in front of the fire and turned their heads to look at him. "Our guests," Josiah told them, “have arrived,” he walked over to the small table beside the bench and poured himself a glass of Victoria’s sherry, although he himself did not care for it.

"In this storm?” Victoria asked, surprised because the wind had started wailing and the rain was lashing against the house. It was not weather to be abroad in.

“But they weren't due for another se’ennight," Kira protested, although she was not dressed for bed, or like Stiles in loose pants and a fisherman's sweater he had bought from the town after a day of being in the constricting dress, or even like Victoria wearing a dressing gown over her shift, she was not dressed for company. Victoria's hand went to the cap over her dark red hair as if wondering if she needed to run upstairs and dress.

“Well, they," Josiah enunciated the word, because he, at least had only expected a gentleman and prehaps his man, not two gentlemen, alphas both, “arrived at the kitchen door. Stiles, as they did not inform us we would have two alphas to house I have had to put one of them in your room for the duration, as the linens on the bed were fresh only this morning, and because the gentleman in question, although I use the word loosely in his case, is the suitor come from London to meet you. You will be sharing my bed until he leaves as I do not have faith in his good intentions.”

Stiles agreed with a grimace, because although he knew that he kicked like a mule his father farted like an ox. Until he had been old enough that Victoria put her foot down about it Stiles had bedded down with his father, and it was not that something of them were eager to revisit. Kira and Allison had shared a bed in the nursery with Victoria, and Kira still shared her bed. Victoria's decree that they give Stiles his own bed had more to do with their complaints about poor sleep than decorum.

"I have always found Hale to be quite pleasant." Kira protested, “perhaps if it is simply that he arrived in the storm,” she left it open.

“We shall see," Josiah said with a frown, “we shall break fast with him, Stiles and I, and decide if he remains so inclement, although his companion, McCall, proved to be much more decorous." Kira gave a momentary flash of delight that Stiles, the only one facing her, noticed, but he said nothing. He would question her about it later, when he was not being shepherded to bed by his father who thoroughly believed in early to bed and early to rise, and disapproved of any who disturbed him in this endeavour.

Stiles would talk to Kira when he got the chance on the morrow, because clearly she was up to something and it involved the uninvited guest.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast with the stilinskis goes about as well as Derek feared it would

Kira Yukimura had grown up in Hardcastle Hall. She had faint memories of living with the Argents in Canada, before Alpha Argent died, and a few memories so vague and nebulous that she questioned their veracity of her mother's fine and elaborate gowns, and the sting of brine on her lips, but all of the things about her past of which she was certain were of Hardcastle Hall, and she knew that if Victoria was to have her way it would be her future as well.

She might not have had Stiles’ aspirations, but she wanted to marry well of her own choice, not to spite Victoria as some might, for she loved her, but Victoria’s choices were not her own, and she had, for the past year and a half, corresponded with a gentleman that she had met in Truro, and after that time he had made the decision to accompany Hale that he might woo her in person instead of making love only by missive.

Although she shared a bed with Victoria two glasses of sherry and she slept like a dead thing, and after three glasses, with Kira topping up her glass just enough that she did not notice she would not make a move until morning, and not see how late it was when Kira retired. Kira had a plan.

Heather had told her that McCall was in the rear parlour before he retired himself, waiting to see if the storm abated some as he did not sleep well when the thunder was crashing, a fact she knew from his letters. Checking her hair in the peer glass she opened the door as if accidentally and caught her first glimpse of him since that day in Truro when they promised each other that they would correspond.

McCall had taken his coat from his shoulders and only wore his waistcoat over his shirt, even his cravat had been untied and stuffed into a pocket. His hair was still damp from the rain and he had finger combed it back from his face and the look of surprised delight that he gave her warmed her heart. "I’m sorry," she said, "I didn't expect anyone to be here." It was a harmless lie, she planned this, but not what he was to reply.

“Vidama Kira," he was beaming, “what brings you to this inn, were you caught by the storm too? Hale and I were on our way to Hardcastle Hall to meet with you and your brother.”

Kira prided herself on being quick on her feet, and got the distinct impression that Allison's brand of mischief was at fault here. What it meant that Hale had been rude because he had thought Josiah was an innkeeper, someone whom he was paying for a service he did not receive. The question was now whether to continue with the ruse or to correct him, but it was hard to think when he smiled at her as bright as the sun in the sky.

"I believe you are under a terrible misconception," Kira stumbled out the words, suddenly awkward in her own skin, and feeling like only her corset held her together. “This is Hardcastle," she watched the realisation cross his features followed by shock, and then horror as he contemplated how it was that Hale had behaved in the kitchen, angry at a slovenly innkeeper who was in fact his host and the father of the omega that had been arranged for him to meet in the hopes they would marry. He was lucky that they had not been thrown out on their ears and Kira could recognise that although she only had Josiah’s account of what had happened. McCall had been there to see it.

“Allison," she added because this smacked of her mischief, “when she returns in the morning I shall box her ears and force her to tell Josiah of her mischief, it is unfair that Hale take the blame on his own, when she engineered this.”

“Allison?” McCall asked, “is that not the alpha that your guardian wishes you to marry?”

Kira sat down before the fire and smoothed out her skirts, “it is, but neither Allison or myself desire the match. I think my guardian sees us still as the children that we were playing together in the gardens and once she gets an idea into her head she will not let it go.”

McCall's smile was blinding, “love will find a way," he assured her, “and this Allison, if she is, as you suggest, against the match then she will surely help us in our endeavour, for I can tell you now I am unchanged in my desire to see us wed, even if it means spiriting you away to the colonies.” Kira could not stop the way her heart faltered at those words. McCall might not have been a wordsmith but he knew exactly what she needed to hear. Yes, Kira thought as she looked across the parlour at the man she had chosen to marry, they would recruit Allison into the scheme, after all she was no more wished to marry than Kira desired to marry her. They would explain this mischief in the morning to Hale before breakfast, but this time was their's alone.

—-

Derek awoke with the dawn to find that the storm had, during the night, blown itself out, and the day looked to be fair when he opened the shutters. A beta boy, whose name he did not catch, brought him hot water to wash with, and informed him that Mr Stilinski and Vidame Melchizadek would join him for breakfast in the dining hall, and if he needed help to dress then he would certainly be able to help. Derek did not need the help but he did request a brush that he might do his best to present himself appropriately.

Peter’s latest desire to see everyone happily married meant that he had agreed to meet the omega boy whose mother had been Peter’s childhood friend. Peter had added something about inheritance and legacy but Derek blotted him out as he always did when Peter took such topics, his bride had added something that Derek had also not paid any attention to, that the boy was isolated and knew little of London society had been heard, that he was educated and knew his own mind, and so would not accede to the marriage just to please his father and his name was Melchizadek, which was unfortunate but not insurmountable. Derek could imagine spending his life calling his bride “dear” if it came to it.

He pulled on his dark green velvet coat that Lydia had chosen for him, brushing it down in case it had picked up any of the road dust, and used a rag to polish his boots so he looked his best just in case the two got along - marriage was the goal after all.

Derek had long since considered that he might be ready for marriage but he disliked how the members of society that were eligible for marriage acted towards him - like he was a prize to be won. They crowded around him, touching and talking over him, telling him what he liked and trying to trick them into compromising them because his family was rich. It had been so since he had been barely a boy, and more and more it made him desperately uncomfortable until he, as his uncle so succinctly put it, lashed out like a cornered animal. He enjoyed the idea of marriage and of being married. He liked the idea of sharing his life with someone willing to share their life with him, someone willing to help him raise children that were part him and part the person who had chosen to spend their life with him and not his wealth.

It didn't make it any less terrifying.

Perhaps that was why those marriageable prospects were so determined to marry him, but he knew that instead it was more about his wealth and standing than it was about him.

So he was nervous at the prospect of this meeting, but holding it in an inn had been a clever idea for it meant that neither he nor his prospective bride were given the advantage of knowing the terrain, as it were, and taking a deep breath he went into the dining room.

The innkeeper stood by the window wearing a finer coat than Derek expected for his station, with his dirty blond hair tied at the nape of his neck with a length of ribbon. There was a fine coffee set upon the table with a spread of cold meats and a fresh loaf, with a bowl of boiled eggs. Melchizadek stood next to the innkeeper; the two of them had their heads bent in quiet conversation. When he entered they both turned to look at him.

The omega was beautiful, tall and slender with dark hair that fell around his low pointed ears. His eyes especially were remarkable, like flecks of golden sardonyx in the light. What words he had, few as they had been, vanished from him.

“Hale," the innkeeper said, “may I present to you, my son, Melchizadek.”

Derek, already unstable from nerves, and the awe that the boy had inspired in him realised that he had made a terrible mistake. This was not an inn, and the innkeeper that he had been so curt with the night before was, in fact, the father of the man he had come to court. Feeling very much like the cornered animal that Peter compared him to Derek sat down to what would be one of the most uncomfortable meals that he had ever shared. He might as well not look at the omega, he thought, because he would not be allowed to wed him.

For the entire meal, awkward as it was, he stared at his plate mumbling answers to the questions that he was asked. He had hoped that Melchizadek might be the one that he married, with no interest in the appeals of rakedom. He wanted the ease of marriage, but there was little appeal in marrying someone who loathed him, and after the night before’s behaviour, even if the alpha who had been at the alehouse could be held at least partially responsible by informing him that this was an inn, he had no hope.

“I trust you slept well," the omega, Melchizadek, offered trying to try another conversation.

Derek's eyes never left the ham sliced upon his plate, there was a boiled egg still in it's shell, and cups of both coffee and wine. "I did," he said, “the room was most pleasant and I was most grateful after arriving in the storm, although my manner was not acceptable.”

“The weather has been most inclement this season, has it been so in London?”

"I have not been in London,” Derek told him, "I spent the summer in Derbyshire helping at my uncle’s silk mill.” He couldn't help but be curt, and the words were like ash in his mouth.

“Perhaps you will find Cornwall equally appealing,” the omega offered “ the storm has broken, but the roads are washed away," the whole thing was terribly awkward, “so we must insist that you remain until they are cleared.”

Derek put some ham in his mouth and chewed mechanically, "I have some land not far from here, so Cornwall is not new to me,” He realised how awful it sounded as soon as he had said it, and tried to qualify it, “I must compliment your cook, this ham is excellent.”

“It is well you appreciate her now," Mr Stilinski growled out, “as you are stuck here for at least three days more and you were not so clement last night.”

"I apologise for my behaviour last evening," Derek told him, looking up at his host, “I was ill informed that this was an inn, but even so I behaved abominably and I beg your pardon." He pushed back his hair which made an awful squeak on the slate floor. “I shall excuse myself, perhaps I might help clear the roads, by your leave, Mr Stilinski, Vidame. I apologise for wasting your time. I can already see that this match is poor.”

—

Josiah watched as Hale left, most of the breakfast that he had served himself still on his plate. "It is well that it is a poor match, he was most inappropriate.”

“Actually, papa," Stiles told him, “I think he might be perfect, if he is stuck here for a few days we might just change your mind.”

“He has been nothing but abominable,” his father told him, “it will take a lot to sway my mind." Josiah was firm on this. Stiles had been beautifully turned out in a fine red coat and apart from a cursory look the alpha had not even cast eyes upon him. Josiah might have been biassed but he thought Stiles very handsome indeed, and yet the alpha had fixed his gaze entirely upon his plate.

His brief explanation of how he had mistaken the hall for an inn sounded like the mischief that Allison was prone to, it was in her nature to tell travellers desperate for shelter that it was an inn, or that they were further afield than they were that they might make fools of themselves.

“Stiles," Josiah said, “you are my son and I love you dearly, do not feel that you must agree to this match simply because it has been presented to you.”

“Oh, no, papa," Stiles answered with a smile, “it is nothing so crass or so simple. He is perfect for me, just give me a chance to come to know him, I would like to know who is he is when he doesn't look like a cornered animal about to swallow his own tongue, for I have heard he is most pleasant otherwise, and I have three days to sway his mind.” He grinned at his father, then popped a whole egg into his mouth, staring until his father agreed with him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You all lucked out, because I posted today's chapter yesterday thinking it was thursday  
> so you get a new chapter today
> 
> Stiles and Derek finally get to have a conversation

Following the disastrous breakfast Stiles had hoped that he would be allowed to spend the day dressed as he was, but he had not counted on Victoria’s mood. She had discovered Allison's prank and, without Allison to vent her temper upon, she would not be argued with, thus his plan for finding Hale and getting to know him without the pressure of the courtship was undone. The dress made things difficult. He didn't really think that Hale would understand the dresses, he could always try to woo him when the sun set and the pants came back on.

He was adjusting his shawl around his shoulders and wondering if Heather had cinched him in a little tighter than usual, even though one of his stockings felt a touch more insecure than usual, when Callum, Hardcastle Hall’s groundskeep cum houndsmaster caught him on the back stairs into the kitchen. “Stiles,” he said, “I’m so glad I caught you.”

Callum was a beta who had worked on the estate for as long as Stiles could remember. He had glossy black hair, thick side burns and a moustache that his teeth appeared under. He had glittering black eyes and kept withered apples and carrots in his the pockets of his coat, things that had fascinated Stiles as a child. He had carried Stiles upon his shoulders pretending to be a horse for him. “Lady whelped in the storm, it's her first litter, poor lass, and she's rejected the pair of them. Maida is due any day now and I’m needed to help clear a tree from the main road into town. If I show you how can you keep an eye on the pups, keeping them warm and fed. Maida will take the two of them with her own,” Maida’s maternal nature had seen her suckle kittens and tongue bath ducks, “but until she whelps herself....” He left it open, she wouldn't take the pups this close to her own whelping. “Can I trust you with this?”

Intellectually Stiles knew that Callum had chosen him because he was without duty for the day and wouldn't mind sitting in the stables with a book and a basket of pups and wool scraps. Callum didn’t know that it allowed him to hide whilst dressed like this because he hadn't been able to argue out of the skirts due to Victoria's foul temper. Sitting quietly in the stables with his novel, far from her rages, seemed ideal.

“You’ll have to show me how," Stiles told him, “but I can do that," he had been meaning to read Robinson Crusoe for years now, after Kira had raved about how much she had enjoyed it.

“With your suitor come from London I had thought that you might be otherwise engaged.” He said it with a bright smile that was a little mocking, but Stiles was used to it.

“Father wishes that he were crushed under the tree blocking the road, and Victoria, who is in a rare mood today, decided this," he swept his arm down to show the expanse of the dress and the shawl that was crossed over the flat panel of his bodice to be tied ot the laces of his apron.

“That well?” Callum asked, steering him to the kitchens, where he picked up twin jugs of goats milk and what appeared to be barley water.

“Allison informed them that this was an inn," Stiles explained as he gathered some things which he wrapped in his kerchief and stuffed in his pockets, “she must have met them in the alehouse, so he was rude, annoyed and wet when he arrived. He must have realised during the night, and then he was either too shy or embarrassed to to look at me which angered father more. The whole thing was so awkward he offered to leave there and then.”

Callum laughed, “with the roads the way that they are he will not be able to leave till at least Sabbath is past, Monday will be the soonest he can leave your hospitality.”

“Father will be pleased,” Stiles told him as they entered the stables.

 

Hardcastle Hall kept four hunting hounds to manage the grounds, especially the rabbit overpopulation that could otherwise decimate their crops, in addition to that there were the two, not quite, house dogs, Our Sainted Lady of Stars, and The Maiden's Vale of Tears, or Lady and Maida, and each bitch kept, Maida was Lady’s mother, some variation of a similar name so there was always a Lady and a Maida.

This had been Lady’s first litter and she had never been good with storms, she had, in previous storms, crawled into Stiles bed and he had been glad of the company. He didn’t care much for storms either. With the stress of the storm it wasn't a surprise that she whelped early, or that she rejected the pups. Now was it a surprise that she waddled over to sit next to him, carefully on the other side of him to the basket, with her head against his thigh as he settled in to read the novel he had carried in his pocket.

He might have had many things to say about dresses, but their pockets were amazing, and sometimes he could even coax Heather into tying on two sets so he had twice the room for things like scones, ships biscuits, a flask of whiskey, a novel, that sort of thing.

—

Although the storm had washed out the roads and taken down some of the trees the hedged gardens had survived it almost without damage. Knowing that McCall was present and would meet her amidst the spruce trees, there was a bench there that she might sit without ruining her dress, Kira curled her hair and put on her finest day dress.

If Victoria asked she was fetching herbs and the last of the season's wildflowers, but her whole intent was to meet McCall so she was quite surprised when the alpha that crossed her path was not McCall but Allison, with mud all the way to her knees from crossing the fields.

"If you are wise you will turn around and walk straight back to the alehouse. Your mother knows all about the trick you played upon our guests and she is not best pleased.” This was an understatement, Victoria was a demon in her rages.

“Is that because she suspects that you have arranged another suitor for yourself, that the curly headed alpha is not Hale's boon companion, as I am sure that you have told her, but is instead here to court you.” Allison's grin never looked so impish. She had beautiful dimples that made her appeal angelic even in the worst of her mischief.

“Sister," Kira sida using the word deliberately, “it is in both of our best interests that she does not learn of it until I have liberated my jewellery and we can leave.” Kira was used to Allison. She knew that sometimes you bullied and sometimes you bargained and if she could be recruited to the cause, with the incentive of getting them both out of the marriage that Victoria had planned for them, Allison would be a powerful ally. Even Victoria would have to accept it if Kira married someone else.

“True.” Allison agreed, “but you’d never be able to get those jewels from my mother, but I can.” She shrugged, like most female alphas she wore the corset and bodice required by polite society but with pants and a great coat, as opposed to the skirt that betas and omegas wore.

Kira gave Allison a look that appraised her from crown to toes, “and why would you?”

“Because it sounds like fun," she said, “just like being a chaperone for you for the next hour or so would be.”

Kira leaned into her sister’s pace, “right now, Allison, we're allies, but I am as aware of your peccadilloes as you are of mine. So at worst I get a scolding and the rest of the week to sway Josiah to my cause. I can't be cut off, but you can.”

Allison stiffened. Kira so rarely acted like this Allison had either forgotten, or chosen to ignore, it. “What is it they call it?” Allison asked, “we are caught in a pact of mutually assured destruction, if you go down then you’ll take me with you.”

“And you have farther to fall than I," Kira said. “I don't wish to marry you any more than you wish to marry me, so working together we are more likely to finish this simply and quickly with your inheritance intact.” Her smiled as she said it was distinctly vulpine and left Allison with the impression she had been outmaneuvered.

—-

Stiles was tucked away in the stable on a hay bale with a book and a basket of two new pups, and was starting to get bored. It had only been just over an hour, so there was still hours to go. He reached into his pocket and pulled out one of the ship's biscuits he kept in there for snacking on during the day. As he finally bit off the corner, because it was like chewing on a rock, normally he preferred to soak them in tea until they had softened, a crumb went awry and he started coughing, looking up, with his hand over his mouth, and noticed Hale tending to the horses.

There were scenes like this in salacious novels. Hale had stripped down to his shirt and was rubbing down his horse with a handful of straw. His shirt, tucked into the waistband of his pants, was almost soaked through with sweat, which suggested that he had been at this some time, which surprised Stiles as he had not thought himself that interested in his book that he had might miss this. And he wished he had because he suddenly understood those salacious novels in a way that he had not before. He wasn't supposed to know about those novels, but Victoria had never hidden them as well as she thought she had, and he and Kira had read out the best bits to each other long before they were old enough to know what most of it was about.

The muscles of Hale's back were bunching and flowing and it wasn't until Stiles choked on his biscuit that he noticed that Stiles was there, they had a moment of realisation as they both realised they were not alone. Hale turned around with a snap of his waist that would have brought Stiles to his knees if he had bene standing.

Kira had told Stiles that Hale was different away from the pressures of society and the fact that he tended his own horse said that this was true.

She was not unused to alphas. His inheritance was not as much of a secret as his father seemed to think it. He was in DeBrett's after all, anyone with a reasonably recent edition, it did come out yearly after all, could trace his lineage and learn that the county of Ellesmere would go to his alpha upon marriage and the death of his aunt. Alphas had been calling upon Hardcastle Hall for his entire life, and although he had, to an extent been chaperoned from them, he knew alphas other than Allison and the fact that Hale was incapable of the fakery that typified their existence had made him perfect. Even if Hale had been fat, middle aged and bald he would have been perfect just for his shyness.

"I’m sorry,” Hale said, “I was unaware of you there, I would not have been so forward, or removed my jacket had I known that I was not alone."

Stiles' father was wrong, Hale’s manners were superlative. He was good looking, rich, polite, and seeking marriage- no wonder the society brides swarmed him like rats.

“Sir," Stiles voice was softer than usual because of the bout of coughing, his throat raw. “I was as unaware of your presence until I coughed. I disturbed you as much as you disturbed me.” He considered telling Hale who he was because he wasn't sure that hale recognised him, skirts and all, but the chime on his fobwatch sounded alerting him that the pups asleep in their basket beside him needed fed. “My apologies, my charges are hungry.”

Hale walked over beside him, leaning over to see the pups in their basket. “Have you done this before?” he crowded in behind Stiles, enough that Stiles could feel his heat through the layers he wore, and his breath, summer hot and slightly sour, was against his neck between his shawl and the cap he wore covering his hair and ears.

“I have not." Stiles told him, a little breathless from the attention.

“It can be a little tricky, I’ll show you." Hale wrapped his arms about Stiles to frame him with his body, and took one of the pups from the basket, rag and all, his breath hot and soft against Stiles neck and cheek. He could even feel the prickle of his beard against his jaw. “You have to hold them like this," he said lifting the glass implement that Callum had left, dunking it into the bowl of goats milk and barley water, and then pressing it against the pup’s muzzle until it began to mouth at it, tucked up in it’s shred of blankets as secure in Hale's hand as Stiles was in his arms with his heat pressing against him. So Stiles leaned back against his chest. Hale smelled of horse and wet straw, but also warm sweet hay and sunshine and the musk of fresh sweat, with the sharp scents of lemon oil and sage in his beard. Stiles decided then to turn his face, not sure why, except that he wanted to kiss Hale.

“I don't know your name," Hale’s voice had gone as soft as his breath, as the soft footsteps of Maida getting up and then lying down before getting up again sounded around them. She must have been in the early stages of labour Stiles thought distantly.

“Stiles," He answered just as softly. For a moment it looked like they might kiss, but then the puppy, having decided that it was done, or just took a moment, and belched. The sound was so unexpected and large, and the pup so small, that Stiles burst out laughing, and to his delight Hale laughed with him.

“Someone has a big appetite," Hale said, his thumb running down the pup's back, blind as it was, and mouth rooting for the rubber nipple upon the glass measure. He unentangled himself from Stiles and then sat on the straw facing him, with the basket between them. "I’m not going to give you more just yet, greedy,” he gently tapped the pup on the muzzle with his big finger, and then he tucked the pup, wool rags that it was wrapped in and all, into the collar of his shirt and against the heat of his skin.

He lifted the other puppy,” I’m Derek,” Hale told him, “you must call me that.”

“Thank you, Derek," Stiles said, testing out the name, “how did you get so good with animals," and like a dam had been broken Hale started to talk.

It was gone dark when Callum returned, the pups tucked into the curve of Stiles’ shawl after a second feed, and Stiles honestly did not know where the day had gone. He and Hale, no he corrected himself, Derek, had only seemed to talk for minutes, not hours.

He had been right in his assessment. This was the alpha that he was going to marry.


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles almost walked into his father when he came out of the stable, only a few minutes after Hale, because he stopped to talk to Callum about the puppies, how often they had been fed and how they had been kept tucked up next to skin. So Hale had gone to wash and change for tea, which he was expected to share with Stiles and his father, giving Stiles the opportunity to change out of his dress.

He had a headache building but he was pretty sure it was nothing more than sitting in the poor light of the stable all day, but he was glad that he had for he had enjoyed his time with Hale, no, he corrected himself, Derek, mightily.

Kira had been right, he was a very different person away from the pressures of society, one who liked dogs more than people and took care of his own horse even at the expense of his shirt, who had grumbled to himself as he had pulled his vest and coat back on about how he was just going to have to take them off again in a moment because he couldn't show up for tea stinking like horse.

Josiah was not amused by the conversation, in fact, once he was sure that Hale was nowhere to be seen he grabbed Stiles by the arm and practically dragged him into his office. Stiles wasn't really allowed in his father's office, no one was, not even Heather who was supposed to clean it. Even with the window open it stunk of pipe smoke and there was a bottle of port on the table. Even knowing that he was in for a scolding he glared at his father because pipe smoking made him smell terrible and his teeth rot out of his head, and anyone who had suffered through Josiah with a toothache would do anything to protect his teeth, and port made him farty, and Stiles had to share a bed with him. That headache he had been trying to ignore got a little worse as he glared at his father.

"This is what I find you doing?" Josiah asked, "that boy has no manners, he has no sense of propriety, I should send you to stay with your aunt Frideswed and let her find you a husband." Josiah was ranting, Stiles had learned it was best to let him get it out before arguing. With Victoria sometimes breaking her in mid rant worked, with his father it was best to let him vent. "Have you seen who she considers suitable, her neighbour Albert Strong." Stiles blanched. Strong was rich but he was older than Josiah, had no teeth of his own, and had buried two wives. If Aunt Frideswed had wanted to marry him to someone who was likely to die, possibly by a pillow to the face, he was a good choice, but Stiles didn't want to marry just to rule Ellesmere on his own.

Stiles knew there were some omega who wanted nothing more than that sort of independance but he wanted what his parents had had, happiness in their marriage.

"Papa, I was looking after the new pups for Callum, Hale was tending his horse." Those things were true, Stiles admitted, "nothing happened," it depended, Stiles knew, upon a person's definition of nothing, because Derek had touched him, but not inappropriately.

"That boy is an ass, and as bad as his uncle." Josiah snarled out. "I do not know what I was thinking when I agreed to consider him as a suitor."

"That there are too many omega in this house as it is, that you have sacrificed everything for me and maybe it's time that you and Victoria got to live for yourselves for once." Stiles offered, it wasn't a cutting remark, there was no part of Stiles that doubted, even for an instant, how much his father loved him. He often doubted he was good enough for such a father, or that he had disappointed him, but how his father felt about him was never a question. "And that you've held off on marrying me off for nearly two years now, long past the point most omega would be offered up for marriage, and you've kept me from society to protect me, and Sir Peter knew my mother, and you had heard no scandal about his nephew."

Josiah looked at his son as if he had fallen to the floor and begun to speak in tongues.

"Papa, I understand," he said softly.

"I don't like that boy." Josiah repeated, "his behaviour was awful, and he did not even look at you at breakfast, you are a beautiful omega and he could not even raise his head."

His father was insulted on his behalf.

"Papa," Stiles protested, "he looked like he was moments away from jumping out of the window and running, on foot, to London." It was true. "I have never seen an alpha so scared, it was almost comical, and I am unsure which of us scared him more."

"You are too kind, Stiles, you don't know the terrible things that alphas will do to woo an omega. I have kept you too sheltered."

"Papa," Stiles protested, "don't you remember what happened when I visited Aunt Frideswed and she had to personally drive me home." By which he meant she sat in the carriage with him terrified his father was going to murder her.

"Alpha Whittemore tried his luck when he tried to introduce you to his son, and coralled you into a closet." Josiah answered it bluntly.

"And what did I do?" Stiles asked, his voice low and somewhat patronising.

"You kicked him in the bollocks, broke his nose and screamed bloody murder until Ellesemere's men came and gave him a beating for trying to attack you." Josiah was still angry about the fact someone had tried that with HIS son and he hadn't been able to defend his honour by himself. Stiles wrapped his father into an embrace, resting his head on his father's shoulder next to his neck, like an omega would submit to his alpha.

"And since then I have carried a knife." Stiles assured him, "I am not easily cowed and I will not be tricked into marriage, papa, if Hale lays a hand on me that is not invited I'll cut it off, but right now I want to get to know him. Perhaps we will marry," Josiah growled, "and perhaps we won't, but right now I know him as a shy man who was too scared to look at me, and who tends his own horses." He squeezed his father a little tighter, "I know you're scared, papa, but I had to grow up sometimes."

"Too damn soon," Josiah grumbled into his son's cap.

"Now I have a headache, I am going to take advantage of everyone being at tea to get my camphor rub from my valisse and go to bed, once I find Heather to undo my stays. I hate this dress."

"If he touches you with even the hint of inappropriate behaviour I will send him from this place faster than he can apologise for his terrible manners." Josiah said, "and the same for McCall if he even looks at Kira wrong."

"Yes, papa," Stiles said, deciding not to tell his father that McCall was trying to woo Kira. He worried enough as it was. "Now do I have to tell you again that I must share a bed with you so I do not wish you to drink the port, you know it makes you uncomfortable with wind, get Mrs Havers to bring you the Calvados brandy. It sounds like you need it."

Josiah kissed Stiles on the forehead, "go on, son, treat that headache. I shall explain your absence, and send Heather to you when she has a moment in her duties."

"And papa," Stiles said, offering his father a smile, "if he tries anything inappropriate I'll kick him in the bollocks too." Then with a swish of his skirts he left the office.

\--

Kira's description of the box in which she kept her mother's jewels was quite specific, it was an ebony box about six inches by eight inches with a brass plate on the top embossed with a stylised cherry blossom. It was just large enough to stow into a pocket of a skirt, although not with room for anything else.

Allison's mother kept it on open display on a shelf of a hutch that she kept in the bedroom she shared with Kira. She had never kept it from Kira but it was always known it was being held in trust for her, just like the jewellery that Allison herself would inherit. However because Kira shared a room with Victoria it meant that it was difficult for her to simply take the jewels from the box because Victoria would check them as she washed her face for bed.

Allison did not know what had happened in the time when she had been small and her father had died but Victoria could be paranoid about things like theft, even when she didn't mean to be. Whatever it was that had taken her from Canada, where Allison was born, to Portsmouth had seen her become hard, and that was only partly the blame of Allison's grandfather who had publically scorned her. Yet she had never sold the jewels, either Kira's or her own.

She didn't always open the box, but she always checked that it was there, so there was a possibility there.

As an omega Stiles had certain items that he kept tucked away in a box that was about the same size, a black lacquered papier mache box that Kira had given him for his birthday, that had, on the lid, a painted bronze square with a spray of cherry blossoms.

Allison had a simple idea, she would take the particulars from Stiles' box of omega necessities, the less Allison knew about the better, and place it in the wooden box that was meant to hold the jewellery, then she would put the jewellery in Stiles' box and give that to Kira. she just had to get into Stiles' room, which Hale was using, she would do it at supper, she decided, which meant sitting through an interminable tea. Perhaps, she smiled to herself, she could coax Mrs Havers to using that wonderful dried quince in the tea. Allison might as well get something out of it, other than the mischievous delight she would get in flirting with McCall, mostly to distract Victoria from his pursuit of Kira, but also because she could.

\---

Shifting his shoulders to rearrange his corset, the bones of which were digging right into his ribcage, and unhappy that he couldn't find Heather to undo the laces, and his twisting about had twisted it out of place and with his headache he was just done for now. It was nothing unlacing and applying camphor rub wouldn't soothe when he got the opportunity to lie down in a dark room, using his hands to work out the pressure marks on his skin.

It should be simple, his father would make the excuses for him, because tihs headache was becoming quite vicious, he just needed to pop into his own room and get the jar of camphor rub, it was simple. With everyone at tea it was just a matter of going in, picking up the jar, and leaving, and no one need know he was there.

He pushed open the door just as Hale was pulling on his coat. "Stiles?" he asked.

"Um," Stiles said, feeling very eloquent at the moment, like the words had been knocked out of his head by the throbbing between his ears. "I need the camphor rub on the valisse." He said.

"Of course," Derek said, "I was told Melchizadek had a headache." He turned around and lifted the jar, labelled as it was with paint, and handed it to Stiles. "I hope he feels better," he offered Stiles a smile, "and perhaps you should use some of that rub yourself, you look unwell."

"I'm fine," Stiles protested, "sorry to disturb you, I just...."

Derek touched his shoulder, "if you need me to speak to Mr Stilinski about letting you out of your duties."

Stiles head was pounding, he could barely think through the pain, he just wanted to find Heather, get this damn dress off and lie down in a dark room before he started to feel nauseous with the pain.

"I'll be fine," he said, "it's been taken care of." He said, "I just had to get this." He held up the pot.

Stiles never really heard what Derek had said, or how Derek hadn't realised that Stiles was Melchizadek in an old dress.

\---

Dinner was braised venison cheeks with red wine and a selection of winter vegetables. It was simply, hardy fare, but tasty with the thick, sharp sauce. Allison slid into her place at the table a little late, and smiled to herself, she had done what she had set out to do, she had taken the jewels from her mother's box, replaced it with the linens that Stiles kept in his box, and then replaced both boxes, all without being caught.

She looked around the table for Stiles, noticing his chair was empty.

That was strange, Stiles usually only missed meals, especially braised venison which was his favourite, when he was starting his heat and had the terrible headache.

Suddenly Allison's amazing plan seemed to have a terrible flaw. She only had to hope that she could get the box to McCall before Stiles opened his own box to find his linens were replaced by elaborate hair pins, and dangling figures that Allison had no clue about but had played dolls with as a child.

"I notice that Melchizadek is missing," McCall said trying to make the awful tension around the room lighter by starting a conversation.

"He is indisposed," Victoria snarled, it was a genuine snarl. She had responded thus to everything that McCall had said, including a request to pass the bread.

"I hope he feels better soon," Hale said. It was the first thing he had said for the entire meal, and they were on their second course.

"It is," Allison said in a light manner, "hard to woo someone who is unwell."

"I have no interest in Melchizadek." Hale said, "and I am sorry that the weather makes it impossible for me to leave." Josiah stabbed his venison with his knife in a loud clatter, looking like nothing more than he wanted to have stabbed Hale, probably in the eye, Allison thought, he had that look of violence about him. Josiah was generally not given to violence, but he loved his son dearly. "Yet, I have no desire to see him unwell."

"He is given to headaches," Kira said, "he will be well in the morning, though perhaps not happy, but it is nothing that time, chocolate and a stoneware jug full of hot water will not solve." She smiled sweetly, "we all have our little illnesses."

"As long as it is nothing that will cause him serious harm," McCall said, "my own mother would suffer badly from headaches, and I learned as a child there is nothing for them but time." He nodded his head, "but there are some teas that have been known to ease it. Chamomile or lavender both can help."

"It's certainly something we can keep in mind." Victoria growled out again, "but right now the best thing is sleep."

"Perhaps some flowers in the morning might feel better." McCall said. "It would not do to let him feel unappreciated when he feels unwell."

"I do not care for your imposition." Stilinski growled, "you were not invited to court my son."

Allison took a sip of her wine. "I am sure he will be grateful for such a brotherly gesture, I am sure, McCall you are not here for Melchizadek." Kira coughed around a mouthful of meat. "It has been a long day," she said, "and there is wine and Mrs Havers has excelled herself with supper, we should not be so gray in our moods." Josiah gave Allison a hard glare as if trying to work out what she was up to. "So, I propose a toast, to new friends, because even if Melchizadek does not choose to marry Hale, which is his right, and nothing comes of it, we have a long friendship with his uncle, so to new friends." Everyone drank with her, and as she swallowed she wondered how she was going to get the box of jewels from where she had stashed it under Stiles' bed, so he could have his particulars, but still get the jewels to Kira. It was an issue.

Of course, she had the sneaking suspicion that Hale had not realised that the Stiles he had spoken of so highly to McCall was actually Melchizadek, and that she could work with.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i accidentally posted this to the wrong fic - whoops, so sorry if you thought you were getting a new chapter of totentanz

Allison Argent had a most terrible dilemma. In her attempt to help Kira with her planned elopement she had taken advantage of her mother not knowing she was in the house to steal into her mother's chamber and switch out the contents of Stiles' box of particulars with Kira's jewellery, which the omega needed if she was to leave with McCall. That was not the problem. The problem was she had stowed the jewellery inside what had been Stiles' box of omega particulars which she had placed back under Stiles' bed which was now inhabited by Hale, this should be simple enough as no one would question McCall visiting Hale in his room. The two were close friends after all. The problem was that Stiles needed his particulars and if he went into what was his room, when no one was around, and found Kira's jewellery in their place he would, without meaning to, bring the whole scheme down around them.

It meant that she needed a way to get to the box, almost impossible now her mother knew she was present and would keep an eye on her for further mischief, and swap it's contents so that Stiles could get the things he needed for his heat. She could not enlist Kira, who was making cow eyes at McCall, McCall who appeared, in Allison's opinion, to have nothing in his head but romantic notions, or Hale- who was innocent in the scheme, and if Stiles was in heat she did not want to be around him because he was waspish, snappy and could be cruel. Often all he wanted was to curl up in the kitchen by the fire with a stoneware jug of hot water pressed to his belly. So he wasn't an option and Josiah had no reason to go into Victoria's room at all, for all that he was her husband.

There was only one alternative left, she would have to recruit her mother, unwittingly, to the scheme.

She approached her after breakfast, Stiles was yet to rise, it was best to let him sleep off his headaches and rise when he was good and ready, especially if one did not want to face a mouthful of abuse for disrupting him in heat, and when Heather did face him she would do so armed with chocolate. Stiles was nicer to Heather and Kira then, it was probably because they knew what he suffered.

Victoria Argent-Stilinski was the sort of woman who had started hard and whom life had made harder. There was no give in her, and Kira had once declared that Victoria gave support to her corset, not the boning, and they had laughed, now that strength, which for so many years had been shelter, was impediment, but because Allison knew her mother well, she could turn it to her advantage.

"Mama," she said, after breakfast when she knew Victoria liked to linger and finish off the coffee in the pot. It had been good that Demelza had brought two pots that morning or Victoria, who loved coffee and was little given to waste, might have gone for Hale's throat for pouring a second can of it. "I am worried about how Hale is looking at Kira."

Victoria was not easily swayed or susceptible to her daughter's whims. She may have spoiled her, because she was both an alpha and her beloved Christopher's only child, but she was not a fool. "I was under the impression you had no desire to marry Kira yourself." She said.

"And I don't, but Hale?" she was using Hale as the scapegoat to distract from McCall, who was so subtle it was likely the sideboards were aware of his interest. Allison was pretty sure that this had not escaped her mother, but it was best to let her mother think she knew more than Allison if her schemes were going to work. "Josiah is clearly unhappy with him, and he would not be the first alpha to turn away from an omega of the wrong gender, we all like what we like and if Stiles is wrong then he is wrong, even if Josiah did not want to drum him out, and is out helping clear the roads to get rid of him faster."

Victoria made a noise suggesting that Allison go on.

"I'm just worried because Kira is so suggestible." Kira was about as suggestible as a rock and Allison knew it, "and she's young and knows so few alphas, she might run away with him just because he showed her interest and then she'd be ruined."

"If she was ruined," Victoria said pouring more coffee into her delicate little coffee can. One of the few things that Victoria had managed to get from the Argents was the coffee set with it's delicate little cans, and Victoria took an almost perverse delight in using them, "you wouldn't have to marry her, no one would hold you askance for breaking the engagement."

"She's still my sister," Allison answered, which was her main reason for not wanting to marry Kira, the two of them had been raised as siblings, legally she could not marry Stiles, or it was likely that he would have been the one to be engaged to Allison. "And I'd rather not see her heartbroken or ruined, I wish her to be happy and married, just not married to me."

Victoria considered this, taking a long draught of the coffee from her cup, her eyes narrow as she watched her daughter before she decided that this sounded plausible enough to accept. "And so why are you talking to me, and not to Kira?" Victoria should have been an alpha, Allison thought, she would be in charge of parliament now for sure, but betas could not run for office.

"Because Kira is young and in love," Allison said, "it does not matter what I tell her, she will hear what she wishes to." Victoria nodded, remembering, perhaps, what it was to be young and in love herself. "I'm just worried that she might take her jewellery and abscond in the night with Hale, or worse yet, leave them behind so she can make her way, unattended, to a place where they can meet."

Victoria put the coffee cup down hard enough that it made a thump on the table at that idea. The seed of that idea had been well planted. "And what do you suggest?" she asked her daughter.

"Maybe if you took her jewellery and hid it away in your sideboard, I know there's at least one secret compartment there I don't know of," that was true, but it wasn't for lack of looking. "If you took it out of the box, then when you make your usual checks you can claim that it was stolen." Victoria mulled it over before Allison continued, "and then when the alphas are gone it can mysterious reappear and we can say it was just put away in the wrong place and apologise to everyone involved, we can't prove anyone stole it so no one needs to get fired over it." Victoria finally nodded and Allison knew that her plan was going to work, Stiles could get the things he needed back from where she had stolen them, Victoria would be aware of Kira's plan but without knowing that Kira had taken the jewels, because she hadn't, and by the time that the stink was raised then Allison could have liberated the box from Hale. It was perfect.

\---

Stiles woke up shortly before noon. He was normally roused from his bed much earlier but when his father had learned that Stiles had asked Heather to get him some laudanum and hot water, his headache being that severe, he had slept in his office, rumpled in his chair, with instructions Stiles was not to be roused until he awoke. So he woke when the headache and the laudanum let him, with a mouth that tasted like he had stuffed the sheet into it.

He rang the bell for someone to bring him some water to wash, but when Heather came in she had a tray with a pot of chocolate, a pot of coffee and two of his father’s ale tankards with the jug of water. He could have kissed her even as he popped one of his father’s peppermint candies into his mouth. Laudanum always did a number on him, but his head had felt fit to explode, and left his mouth craving sugar and coffee and chocolate, so he had invented, more out of necessity than whimsy, a very specific drink in which chocolate made with milk, and not water, was added to coffee in equal parts with a spoonful of sugar in the coffee pot. He always had to drink it in private because it made Victoria complain that she was queasy. She liked her coffee black and strong and as bitter as, to quote her directly, her old father in law.

Heather sat down on the bed, with the tray beside her pouring coffee and chocolate in equal measures into the cups, before she handed one to Stiles. “Feeling better?”

“Much,” Stiles agreed taking deep breaths of the steam from the cup. “Still fragile and tired, which I should not be, I think I slept for more than twelve hours, but feeling capable of seeing the day.” It was not unheard of, but thankfully rare, that he had headaches that could last two or three days.

“Well,” she said, taking a long swallow from her own cup, “I have gossip, it is not that you missed much, your father at supper was dismayed that he had to eat with Hale, who said nothing and tried to vanish into the floor like the very hounds of Hell were after him, but it seems Hale said to McCall, where Demelza could hear,” and Demelza, despite her protestations that she didn’t care for gossip was the biggest gossip in the household, which Stiles loved her for, “that Hale’s eye has been caught by Stiles, and he was worried most of the night for your good health.”

Stiles smiled to himself. “He’s charming and polite.” He said in a small voice, trying to keep his smile to himself. “Am I in a gown today?” he asked.

“Mrs Argent is in a fine mood.” Heather admitted, “enough so that Mrs Havers has given both Demelza and I tasks that take us well out of the range of her temper, which means Demelza will be in a foul temper when she comes in out of the herb garden.” Demelza hated working in the herb garden, and Mrs Havers knew it so saved it for special occasions when she needed to be out of the house for long periods of time. There was a house gardener, Mr Boyd, but every now and again Demelza was sent to help her. It was made worse because Demelza liked to flash her charms at Mr Boyd and it was well known he was aiming his cap at Miss Reyes in town, so Demelza would come in, coated in mud at best, but with the encroaching winter the ground would be as hard as stone, cold despite her shawl and fingerless gloves and thick winter stockings, spending all day cutting down the herbs for the winter quiet, and making eyes at a man who was not interesting in allowing her suit, even if she wasn’t fourteen years old.

“So dress it is.” Stiles admitted ruefully, swirling his concoction around in his cup, he and Heather would have to empty the pots before bringing it back down to the kitchen. Victoria loathed waste. “If I am wooing should I wear the brown or the red?” There wasn’t much difference between the two, the brown had a gold trim and years of wear and washing had turned the rich red into a reddish ochre, both did wonders for his skin, but with a cap covering his hair he couldn’t dress it to best advantage, the red dress had a mantua but the brown was a separate bodice and skirt. It was a dilemma. He found himself wanting to dress well for Derek, he wanted to look nice for him, which was an omega trait that he didn’t usually possess. He didn’t care how he dressed except to make his father proud, and now he wanted to dress well so an alpha would notice him, but not just any alpha, Derek Hale.

He liked that Derek was shy, and looked at him like he was beautiful, and not just because he was an omega with a large inheritance, that Derek listened when he talked, to the point of asking questions showing he was interested and not just nodding along and pretending that he might woo him. He looked at Stiles like he were something precious and not just because he was an omega. Stiles had, in his life, met with a handful of omega, there was Whittemore and his son, who were both the worst examples of their kind, arrogant and determined to take what they wanted, and the rest were avaricious and calculating. Hale showed none of that.

He was halting and shy, but seemed more open when Stiles was in a skirt, as soon as the necessities of society were out of the way. He seemed to genuinely like Stiles for who Stiles was, not what he was. “Actually,” Heather said and went to a chest and pulled out a tan and heath coloured bodice, “I was wondering if, considering you are trying to set your cap to him,” she laid it out on the bed, there were straps that tied to the bodice, and laces for the sleeves that would go over the sleeves of his chemise to show the white linen billows. The bodice was shorter than he was used to, and worked with dark brown thread into designs of leaves and roses, with dark brown lacing along the back, with no overt boning other than the very stiff fabric which looked to be covered buckram. Stiles knew there was a matching skirt, and that the whole outfit was better suited to summer, but Stiles choked up on seeing it. The dress was at least twenty years past the latest fashions, and had a roughness that had been stylish when the dress was made, but it still looked as fine as when it had been put away, given to Stiles as part of his inheritance from his mother. And when he picked it up he could smell the lilac and lavender water she had used to wash.

Heather knew how much the dress meant to him, and so offered it him carefully, knowing the red wool or the brown baize dress would be just as good.

Stiles took a deep breath and said, “yes,” finally.

He would spend the afternoon with Hale in his mother’s dress, because she would have loved to meet the man who would marry her son.

Heather used a comb and lilac oil to scrape his hair back under the cap, using one with a bonnet and brim, tied under the nape of his neck, before she draped an old and battered shawl around his shoulders, tying it to the strings of his apron, so that he looked like a servant girl, and she pinched his cheeks to bring colour to them. “So I take it you’re not going to set yourself in the inglenook with your bottle and chocolate snarling at all who come near who are not bringing sheepskin for your lap?”

“No,” he laughed, smoothing out the front of the dress, the bodice shorter than fashion dictated, much more suited to a pregnant woman but still decorous. “That’ll be next week, which is good as by then I shall have access to my own things again.”

“Then you have not heard,” Heather said with a laugh, “oh, you would not have, sleeping away half the day as you did, Victoria discovered that Miss Kira’s jewels were missing from their place and your particulars, notable for your initials upon the straps, in their place,” the whole thing smacked of Allison but he wasn’t sure how she had managed to get his particulars, those things needed for heat to stop the spoiling of his petticoats when his omega nature was at it’s most fertile, and most likely to ruin his petticoats.

“No wonder she is in a fine temper, where did Allison stash the jewels?” Stiles was not nearly stupid enough to miss that link, if Victoria checked the jewels in the morning, not the evening then it was because someone had placed the idea in her head, and, Stiles burst out laughing, smoothing his hand over his skirts, with his head pounding, which almost always came just before his heat, Allison who had stuffed the box with Stiles’ particulars thought she needed to find them again, when it was just a headache that came on it’s own without the heat to back it. He did not envy Kira today, if Victoria thought that Kira had taken the jewels all of her attention and ire would be directed to Kira, leaving Stiles free to pursue Hale.

“With Allison they could be anywhere between here and the tap-house.” Heather said, making sure Stiles was properly appointed before she emptied her mug of coffee and chocolate. “But to distract Victoria in her temper from McCall Allison told her that it was Hale making love to Kira.” Stiles winced.

“Well, there’s nothing for it then,” he said with an impish smile, “I shall have to spirit him away today. I know a perfect little grove not far from here.”

“Well,” Heather said, mocking his tone, “as long as you don’t come back with a baby in your belly just because you’ve decided he’s the alpha for you.” Stiles blushed as red as a berry, before swatting her on the arm on his way out of the room.


	8. Chapter 8

Derek tucked the small papier mache box under his arm as he exited his room, and walked almost into Mrs Stilinski. She was a vision in red wool, dark as blood and her hair curled with a collar of quartz above her fichu. Once he collected himself he offered her a smile, "Mrs Stilinski, I was hoping to find you." He was not the sort of man to offer a smile so he did not. "I found this haphazardly shoved under my bed, I was wondering if it was the jewels that you mentioned were missing this morning."

Mentioned was a vast understatement, for she had cried and wailed and shouted and threatened over their loss, throwing herself about like a mad woman. She had not only washed her face at her husband's suggestion, but changed into a dress much less likely, Derek assumed, to show the blood of those who had wronged her. Victoria Argent-Stilinski was terrifying, and Derek had grown up around the alphas who had run the country with his mother in parliament. If someone had asked him to describe the queen of Hell, after that encounter in the hallway he would have said Victoria Argent-Stilinski.

She snatched the box, her lace gloves he noticed were white, like her fichu, even if the rest of her clothes looked like they belonged to Catherine Di Medici, the butcher of the Paris massacre. She flipped it open. "And how did you come by these?" she asked in a shrill tone.

"They were under my bed," he repeated, "I found them whilst I was looking for my stocking." He did not mention that the previous night had been cold, and even with the fire built up in the hearth the room had been icy and he had gone to bed with his stockings on, kicking them off when the warmth from the blankets had finally soaked into his bones and his feet got too hot. "I thought nothing of it, assuming they were Melchizadek's, when I found them this morning, just pushed them back to where they had been, but at breakfast when you mentioned that Miss Kira's jewels were missing I wondered if these might be them."

"I know what you're about, Hale." Victoria said, "you think that because you are here and that Melchizadek was not to your liking that you might make moves upon Miss Kira, although she is engaged."

Derek blinked, and then he blinked again trying to process her words. "I have no interest in Miss Kira," he said, "In fact I doubt I have spoken more than ten words to her since I have been here, I remain here because the roads are damaged and although I have enjoyed spending time with one of your household, it is not Miss Kira, and it is that person to whom I intend to offer marriage." He took a deep breath, "I have no need for Miss Kira's trinkets, Madam, I am the heir to my uncle who is one of the wealthiest industrialists in England, even if I did not have three estates across Britain each of which bring me in excess of ten thousand pounds a year. I have no need of her jewellery, if I wished to elope with her, which I assume is what you think my intentions to be, I would come back for her jewellery when we were married as it is old, and I assume to be sentimental, otherwise I would replace it all."

He already had plans for the jewellery he would buy Stiles, rubies and garnets to bring out the gold of her eyes. He wanted to buy her fine French silks and gossamer fine lingerie, before wrapping her up in the soft Kashmiri shawls that the finest ladies of society wore. Those were the images he had of her, not her sprawled out naked his bed. He wanted her to be his wife as much as he wanted her to be his lover.

He had come to the conclusion that Stiles must be, in some way, related to Melchizadek for they had the same eyes, and he wanted his children to share them, and the lovely upturn to their nose, perhaps she was not as lovely as other beta girls, with wide shoulders and stood as tall as a man, but Derek did not care for these things. He liked the way she laughed, and the way she talked with her hands waving about, he had barely shared ten words with Miss Kira, the idea that he would choose her simply because she was an omega was offensive to him, but he did not want to speak about his plans for Stiles until he had spoken to her.

His plans were so concrete that he had already written to his uncle, although there was no post with the roads washed out so he could not send it yet, but it would certainly arrive before him in London.

“You seek to threaten us with your wealth?” Mrs Stilinski asked.

“No,” he corrected here, “I merely repeat I have no interest in your wealth, and in your ward. I came for the courting of Melchizadek, and due to my own ill behaviours I ceded the courtship, and would have left immediately if not for the storm and the state of the roads.” It was easy to find his anger with an Argent, even one by marriage. Had he known before he had met McCall on the road that Melchizadek’s mother by marriage was an Argent he would have refused his uncle’s entreaty that he come here to court their omega son. “I have heard that your daughter is engaged to your ward, and I wish them a happy marriage, here, madam, is the jewellery that was misplaced. The box looks much like the one that you threw on the table earlier, I wonder if the two were not confused by a servant cleaning.” He went to walk past her.

“Do not think I have not seen you abroad with one of our serving girls.” Victoria hissed, “would you care if I bring word of such to Miss Kira?”

“I have no interest in Miss Kira,” Derek repeated, “and the time that I spend with a local beta is none of your business, madam, we are both adults with our own concerns and who I court with the intent of marrying is my own business.”

“You would marry beneath your status?” She seemed even more aghast at that.

“What status, madam?” he asked her, “I hold land that was bought by my mother before her death, I have no title, and I do not care who it is that gives me children, omega or beta, as long as they are happy to share their life with me. Did you not also marry an Alpha?”

“You are a Hale,” she said, “your mother was one of the most powerful women in the entire Empire, word of her reached as far as the provinces of Canada where I was born, and you would marry a servant girl, you would besmirch her memory thus?” The idea seemed anathema to Victoria and her voice had gone small as she asked him.

“My mother was murdered for her power by a scion of the man you married.” Derek said in a low growl, “and for it the Argents were stripped of their wealth, held in trust for the alpha child of Lord Christopher.” He spat the words out like buckshot, “My mother would not care who I married, only that they made me happy, although my uncle might react badly if I were to marry your Miss Allison, and then more for her name than her gender.”

“You must excuse my ignorance,” Victoria said, but it was leading, “but we are a long way from London and news does not always travel so far, what happened with the Argents?”

Derek took a calming breath, for it did seem that she did not know. “Lady Kate decided she wished to marry one of the Hale Omega, my brother, Tristan, when he refused her she tried to take him to court to force the marriage using her title against him, the court refused her for which she blamed my mother, being a politician. Angered by this and believing the scourge of betas to be taking over the empire and polluting the parliament she made move against both my family home in London and the houses of parliament. England was blessed in that her attempt against Parliament was caught, but cursed in that eight people died in the fire she started in my family home. She was tried and found guilty by a court of her peers, Alpha Lords and Ladies all, including the Duke of Sandringham and the Duke of Buckingham. In the course of the trial it became clear that much of her endeavour was both financed and supplied, with French gunpowder, by her father, Lord Argent. So the courts decided that his son, Christopher, would inherit, but as he is listed as dead by the military annals, it goes to his alpha child when she reaches the age of eighteen.”

Mrs Stilinski said a word then that polite ladies should not know. “I had no knowledge of what had happened, word came, of course, of the death of your mother, but not of the circumstances of it, and for that I offer you my greatest sympathies. We are honoured by your presence at our table, and my apologies, I have wronged you in my opinions, and I am sorry for it. Melchizadek would have been lucky to be your bride.” Then, with the box of jewellery in her hands, she turned and walked away, leaving Derek in a foul temper and confused as to what she wanted.

\---

Stiles was wearing a dun coloured dress when Derek saw her, her hair neatly tucked up in it’s cap, but the dress was beautiful, perhaps a little while out of fashion but carefully kept, smelling sweetly of cedar and lavender where it had been stored. The colour flattered her pale skin and made the cascade of beauty marks on her collarbone, visible where her fichu had pulled back, glow. And as he looked at her, as he appreciated her beauty, where many would not because she was too tall, her shoulders too broad, her hands too large for conventional beauty, a delighted flush spread across the exposed skin. She had draped a blanket across her arm and carried a basket, “I had thought,” she said with a beaming smile, “that we might go for a walk.” She said.

Often when beta girls offered to walk with alphas they had ulterior motives but there was something innocent and charming about Stiles, something natural and naive and all the bad temper that Derek had from, his awful encounter with Mrs Stilinski drained from him, like a bucket with the bottom knocked out, and all that was left was Stiles. “I’d like that,” he told her, and meant it.

\---

Victoria walked into the parlour where Allison, Kira and McCall were playing cards. She swept in like a hurricane of a ball of fire in a dark red dress. “We are going to Aunt Frideswed.” she said firmly looking at the three of them, “you are not,” she added finally acknowledging McCall.

“Is Stiles coming?” Kira asked.

“No,” Victoria said, “I have had Callum bring the carriage around, we will be leaving immediately, Allison you can drive.”

“But she’s Stiles’ aunt, don’t you think that maybe...”

“We’re going.” Victoria snapped mulishly.

“But, Mama,” Allison said, “the roads are almost all washed out, it will take hours to take the journey, if it can be made at all.”

“I said we’re going.” Victoria repeated and that was that.

Kira made apologies to McCall with her face, “Does Josiah know?” she asked, he had walked into town across the fields, guests and poor roads didn’t stop Josiah from his duty as the town’s magistrate, it was likely nothing short of an act of god would do that, and then it would have to be signed in triplicate.

“Demelza offered to inform him immediately upon his return.” Victoria said, “put on a coat and some warm gloves, it is cold out.”

“We can’t just call on Aunt Frideswed,” Allison protested, “she goes to London for the winter season.”

“Nevertheless the house is open and she will not mind.”

“I think you’ve lost your mind.” Alllison retorted but Victoria would not be swayed, they were going to the manor estate of Ellesmere and they were going immediately.


	9. Chapter 9

Stiles' hand felt hot in Derek's hand, despite the cold and the scratch of the wool gauntlets, as she led him into the wood. She had pulled a thick, home knit cape over her shoulders, tied at her neck, and the gauntlets against the cold. He had pulled on his own great coat but not bothered with his hat, she always wore that linen cap that was pulled over her dark hair, that he could only see from the wisps that escaped to frame her face.

Stiles was a homely sort of pretty, with a soft round face that was too square for conventional female pretty which favoured the small and elfin, but made soft by pillowed lips and large golden eyes, the same eyes, Derek knew, as her cousin, he was guessing at the relationship between them, Melchizadek, the same golden sardonyx colour, although her lashes were longer and darker. Her shoulders were broad but her posture straight and proud, and there was a sway to her hips, innocent of it's power, that haunted him. He liked that her hands were large and square with long thin fingers. Those long fingers were holding his now, the other had a blanket thrown over it and a basket with food that she refused to let him take.

The tan dress she wore, although rough spun, gave her skin a lovely glow he had not expected, even in the gray early afternoon light that made it's way through the trees desperate to lose the last of their fallage. They lay on the ground in a thick carpet that squelched under his feet like wet socks. She chattered on as she led him and although he heard every word he was transfixed by the small dark curls that fell on the nape of her neck, bouncing as she walked.

He had never been so sure of anything as the knowledge that this was the person he was going to marry.

\---

She led him, telling him the history of the place as they walked, to a mill, then down wooden boards set into a hill to form a staircase along a puttering waterfall where there was a second mill. The water fell over the stones and down with a patter splat into a deep dark pool from which the stream continued along reeded banks. Had she not led him there he would not have known such a place existed. There was a break built from thick oak planks with a willow branch roof, and in front of it and outside, was a stone slab that was clearly for the purpose of building a fire.

There was even a plank placed for seating, and was someone's favoured fishing spot. Whoever used it had even built a stand for his rod.

"My father comes here when he gets the chance," Stiles said, draping one of her two blankets over the wooden beam, and sitting down on it, pulling her skirts out from under her and patting the seat she had made, "that's Grandfather Trout's pool." The way she said it it sounded like the sort of thing people travelled to see. "My father and Grandfather Trout have been caught in a battle of wills for these past twenty years." He could feel her heat where she was pressed against him, opening her basket to reveal a bundle of kindling tied tight with thread for the fire, when they chose to build one, a loaf of bread wrapped in linen, a rind of cheese, and some sliced meats. There was even a small jug of wine corked tight, and two small pewter cups.

"Who is winning?" Derek asked, as she poured the wine.

"It's been at impasse as long as I've been alive, sometimes Grandfather Trout wins by breaking the rod, sometimes Papa wins by catching him, but he always lets him go again." She pressed the cup into his hand, it was cold and her fingers were chilled, but she offered him a shy smile, "he says it's because the fight is worth more than the victory."

"Wise words," Derek agreed.

"And he doesn't like the taste of trout." She added with an impish smile around her pewter cup. He couldn't help the laughter that spilled out of Derek. In that instant he wanted to introduce her to his family, to Laura all the way in the US colonies, and Peter with his tart mouth and his shrewish wife. He wanted to say this is my bride, who makes me laugh and is charming and smart and coltish, who falls over her own feet but walks with the grace of a swan when she thinks that no one is watching, and smells like angels are supposed to smell, sweet with lavender and cinnamon and the hint of chocolate over fresh grass and lilacs in her hair, and her skin looked so warm in the dull tan of her dress, embroidered as it was with acorns and vines in the same colour, and the soft off white of her shift along her shoulders revealing the line of her collarbone.

He had never thought himself so gauche as to fall in love, it was something that happened to other people, to peasants who chose to marry because it was the best option for them, not because it was best for their family. Derek had only considered coming to Hardcastle because of Melchizadek's provenance, because he was the grandson of a Count, and carried with him the promise of a title, because Peter wanted the family to join the peerage. He had been coerced, bullied and downright threatened until he had agreed to Peter's plan, and now he was glad that he did, because he had met Stiles and he loved her. He could say it in his head, although the words were not quite ready to leave his lips yet, he loved her.

He loved the way she sat in the stables on a pile of straw with novels and scones, wrapped in kerchiefs, tucked in her pocket to share. He loved the care she had taken with the puppies. He loved the curve of her neck and the way she laughed. He loved the way she stuck her feet out when she sat, instead of demurely curling them under her skirt, and the way she listened when he talked, repeating back what he had said to confirm she had understood it correctly. He loved the way she chattered, her hands moving about her face as she tried to express it when there was too much in her to get out just with her words.

He loved the way her eyes laughed with her, and her expressive mouth. He loved the broad sweep of her collar bones and the way she walked with her hands tucked into her pockets. He even loved the demure way her cap covered her ears.

He loved her, and he was going to marry her, Uncle Peter be damned.

She was still talking, chattering on about how her papa had to carve a new fishing rod every year from yew instead of the softer pine because of his ongoing war with the malevolent trout, sipping her wine and leaning into her. "Might I kiss you?" he asked, surprising himself with how suddenly the words came from him. He had thought, in his head, that he might ask her if she wanted him to start the fire, but instead he asked if he could kiss her. Many girls would not, and Stiles smiled demurely, ducking her chin into her neck as she smiled.

"I would be honoured." She told him.

So he kissed her.

\----

Unconvinced that her mother had not lost her wits Allison took over the driving of the carriage to Aunt Frideswed’s manor of Ellesmere so that Callum could continue the clearing of the roads which had been washed away in the rain. Although Allison had tried to explain, at length, that the roads were still in terrible state and that what was normally a simple journey of little more than an hour might be impossible her mother would not be swayed. She made sure that there was oil in the lanterns and blankets in the carriage to wrap about their knees and that was enough.

Victoria had a plan and nothing would sway her from her destination other than, Allison suspected, Cornwall finally falling into the sea as it had been trying for centuries. So faced with no alternative Allison came up with a plan of her own. She had no desire to go to Ellesmere, at the best of times she and Aunt Frideswed, who was not her aunt but Stiles’, often butted heads with their alpha personalities. Also as it was winter Frideswed was almost certainly in London as she served in Parliament and it was in season, so it was unlikely she was even there. This was not to be borne, and not to be allowed, so the ruined roads aided in Allison’s plan. She would simply drive the carriage around for a few hours and then return Kira to the arms of her alpha.

Allison did not doubt that this new desire to flee had something to do with Kira and her romance, but she doubted that her mother knew the whole of the plan, and how she was helping the two of them to elope. It had the advantage, for Allison, of being a plan where it could do nothing but win, she herself would get out of the arranged marriage with Kira, which the two of them had never wanted, and Kira would marry well to someone she loved and who loved her, or who claimed to love her.

She had checked in her DeBrett’s for McCall and it showed he was of a good family, but there was no register of wealth, she needed society for that, and she loathed society almost as much as Josiah did, so that was out of the question, even if hadn’t meant a two day journey to Truro with the roads the way that they were, but Hale had said that McCall was worth about three thousand a year so she was reasonably sure that he wasn’t after Kira for her inheritance. McCall was a good match for Kira, but that left Allison without a bride, and that threatened Allison’s inheritance.

Allison’s inheritance of two hundred pounds a year until she came into her majority was more than enough for her, it was enough to rent some rooms in any town that she wished and keep her in the lifestyle she enjoyed. She was not one who gambled a lot, enjoying the games more than the winnings, so small bets were enough to keep her entertained, and she did not drink to excess as much as many of her peers. She was a rake, and did not deny it, but her outgoings were small, and when she reached majority at twenty five she would come into a more reasonable amount that would keep her solvent till the end of her days. She might never be able to buy a place the size of Hardcastle, but there were many fine houses that weren’t so grand, and a few wise investments, using Josiah’s own rule for deciding such things which she admitted was a masterstroke, would see that grow, and when she was ready she would marry where she willed, if she chose to marry at all. She was barely nineteen, she had no idea if she wished to marry, but she knew she didn’t want to marry Kira, whom she thought of like a sister.

With Kira and her mother in the back she told Callum she was more than qualified to drive, which was true, after all, and she would manage her mother’s latest lunacy. Victoria was not a woman given to strange flights like this, but clearly the stress of the past few days had driven her beyond her wits.

After all Allison had a plan, she would drive the carriage around for a few hours, until it started to get dark, stop off in a taproom nearby that she knew well, informing her mother that they were hideously lost, and set back in the morning, because the more distraught and determined Victoria got the easier it was to manipulate her, and it was fun to do.

\---

When Stiles glided into the kitchen it was like he was walking on a cloud. “God’s wounds, Stiles,” Heather said staring at him, “when I suggested making sure not to come back with a full belly I was joking.”

Stiles looked at her as if she had lost her mind, he had done nothing of the sort and was not too proud to say it. Heather had been his milk sister and her mother had been both nurse and maid to him until Heather had taken the role herself. Heather and he were as close as brother and sister, and when Victoria had thought up her plan to teach Stiles humility it had been Heather’s dresses he had worn. But his virtue was intact and he had no fear of saying such.

“Oh lamb,” Mrs Havers said turning, she had a wet cloth in her hand, “you look as if someone took a scourer to your skin,” her tone was a fond patronising as she placed the cold wet fabric against his skin, “your father will be searching for the pistols as there is only one person who could have done this to you.”

“Done what?” Stiles asked, for he had no clue as to what the two were talking about, hsi face felt a little hot but he had spent the afternoon tucked up with Hale by the old mill pond. They had done nothing more than kiss, but they had kissed a great deal, and Hale’s hands and mouth had lingered over his throat and down the sides of his arms, amidst promises of fidelity and forever. He did not doubt for even a moment that Hale intended to marry him, even as he tugged off his cap and scratched his finger through his hair. He wanted a bath but also felt that if he did he would be washing Hale off his skin.

“You should see yourself, lamb,” Mrs Havers said holding up Victoria’s black glass platter, the one she was so proud of, the one that had come from Canada, and showed Stiles his reflection.

The area around his mouth and neck was covered in a bumpy hot looking rash. It continued down his neck and across the line of his collarbone. Most of it would be covered by his dress when he was arraigned for supper, the high collar of his shirt and cravat doing it’s best to protect his honour. However there was nothing to be done for his mouth and cheeks, and the side of his neck. “You should have asked him to shave.” Heather said as if she knew more about alphas than Stiles did, when Stiles knew that she did not.

There had been a lecture before Hale arrived about how alphas only wanted one thing, and Allison was more than proof enough of that, and he should keep his wits about him, and not to worry if he needed a chaperone, because Heather had a rolling pin and would keep him safe.

“What shall I do, my father will….” he wasn’t even sure what his father would do, just that at best he would send Hale away before he had proposed marriage. “And Victoria will…” Suddenly his corset was incredibly constricting and there was simply not enough air in the room.

“Calm yourself, lamb.” Mrs Havers said, “Mrs Stilinski has gone to visit with friends overnight, and that means her cosmetics are unattended.” She said it with what could approximate a leer, “I’m sure a little violet cream will make a lot less obvious.” She smoothed her hands over Stiles’ shoulders. “I’m sure all will come well of it, but you don’t have a full belly, do you, that’s a lot harder to hide from your father.”

\---

Peter Hale hated travel. He hated leaving London and only did so when he had no other option, and the idea that his nephew was wooing left him with no other option. He had to leave London and make sure that Derek did not leave them with a lifelong enemy instead of a marriage into the peerage. He barely left the parts of London he liked and spent his summer in Bath with the rest of the well to do.

But Derek could almost certainly be trusted to confuse the matter, and his determination to make a good impression by showing up alone, seven days before he was due, would not ease the path.

Peter liked his nephew, which surprised most as they were two very different personalities, and if the omega was anything like his mother it would be a good match, even without the promise of marriage into the peerage. So now, after three days travelling and bad roads and worse inns Hardcastle Hall was in front of him. This would soon be resolved.


	10. Chapter 10

Allison brought the carriage around to the rear of the house before dropping down and helping Kira out, her plan to leave her mother in the ale house had worked wonders, and she hadn’t even just driven off as soon as she had gotten out, although it had been close. The alehouse was about twenty minutes brisk walk over the fields so she did not feel bad for abandoning her there, and Daehler would make sure she was well taken care of. She had told Victoria that she would be best to stay there whilst Allison tested the roads and with Kira asleep in the back of the carriage it would be best not to rouse her, Victoria accepted this and then allowed Allison to drive away, unknowing that Allison intended to return to Hardcastle without her mother. She was quite sure her mother’s rage when she discovered the ruse would make little difference after all she had clearly lost all reason in this matter. Given the opportunity Allison would take the carriage, force McCall and Kira into it and drive them to Gretna Green.

 

She was quite surprised that there was another carriage there when she arrived for Hardcastle Hall was not given to visitors and both McCall and Hale had come by horseback, and Callum was tending to two fine horses that had obviously pulled the carriage. Everything about the carriage, painted a deep opaque black that was almost mirror fine, suggested a greater wealth than was usual at Hardcastle. Not even Ellesmere often garnered such guests.

 

“I wonder who has come to call, Josiah said nothing of other guests.” Kira said, arranging her shawl over her shoulders, “it’s good we left Victoria at Daehler’s,” Kira had been party to the deception of course, “conniptions is not a strong enough word, she’d have collective apoplexy and throw herself to the ground in a fit.”

 

“Especially if it’s another alpha.” Allison agreed with a smile that was impish in his mischief. “It is probably just a traveller caught here by the bad roads.” Allison said opening the door for Kira to go into the kitchen, but it was clear that it was not simply a guest caught for the night because Mrs Havers’ kitchen had a servant woman in it that Allison had never seen before, who had moved Mrs Havers from her place at the worktable to turning the spit as she wiped at her suspiciously wet eyes.

 

“What is going on here?” Allison asked in a sudden rage. This was her home and only Josiah had the right to make changes to it.  

 

“Miss Allison,” Mrs Havers started.

 

“This is Bertrand,” Demelza burst in making sure to mangle the name, deliberately Allison was sure. “Mr ‘ale has come from London and brought with ‘im ‘is footman and Bertrand, who is from Paree.” She mangled the pronunciation of that too. “Our kitchen is the work of the devil ‘isself, ‘e says, aint good enough for feeding pigs.”

 

Allison’s rage was a quick and terrible thing. “Out!” She said in a bark, “if our kitchen aint good enough for the pigs you should see how well we keep them.”

 

The cook said something in French. Allison responded in kind. “ _Sortir de cette maison maintenant vous connard français, avant que je vous jette aux porcs. Allez, allez._ ” And with that she grabbed him by the arm and dragged him from the kitchen. This caused Mrs Havers, who for all of Allison’s life had been unflappable, to burst into another flood of tears, and both Kira and Demelza, who had the compassion of a toad, were forced to comfort her.

 

So it was in a rage that reminded all that she was her mother’s daughter that she went into the house proper to find Josiah and discover what it was that was happening, but when she went into the parlour instead of her stepfather she found a man that she had never seen before, who was tall, impeccably groomed with a neatly trimmed beard around his mouth, and was drinking Josiah’s wine from one of Josiah’s cups. “You must be Miss Argent.” He said as if she should know him and she did not. “Won’t you join me?”

 

“And who are you, sir? To be so free of our house as if it were your own and we were uninvited guests.” Like her mother Allison’s rage was a thing of ice and perfect pronunciation, as if all of the elocution lessons available had been perfected in her manner and her words.

 

“And you are your mother’s daughter,” he said and his tone was fond, “I am Sir Peter Hale, I assure you I was invited but I appear have arrived late due to problems with the road. I have been on the road for days longer than I intended and took advantage of the empty parlour to have a beverage and a moment in a most comfortable bench whilst I awaited the return of the Magistrate Stilinski.” He said calmly, “and I do believe my nephew has already arrived and is trying to woo the young Vidame.”

 

Allison was not to be deterred. “Obviously, sir, you are under the terrible misconception that it is acceptable to simply insert oneself into the household, replace the staff with your own, and quaff the master’s wines and take his tobacco.”

 

“I do not smoke a pipe,” Peter said calmly, “my wife abhors the smell and I do wonder if she is not part blood hound for she always knows, even days after, and as for drinking your master’s cellar, I am drinking peppermint tea. Again my wife does not care for my drinking, she thinks it will ruin my complexion and I find both tea and coffee, although pleasant, if drunk in the quantities it would require to replace wine and spirits, to give me a terrible excess of energy. And I brought the peppermint tea with me, I will admit, however, to availing myself to your hot water and cup.”

 

There wasn’t a lot Allison could say to that but with her rage high upon her she was not one to give up so simply. “Imagine my surprise, sir, to return home to find your servant running amok in the kitchen, to the point that our housekeeper and cook was in tears, almost run from her own place of employment.”

 

“Then I apologise for his behaviour, he is French,” the way he said it made it sound like an apology and an explanation both, “I had thought that as a concession to my appearance that having him cook would be a delight, I had forgotten how awful French cooks could be, I do hope you sent him out of the kitchen with a flea in his ear.” Allison had and this man was making it very difficult to argue with him. “He is an excellent cook, he is just rude and bad tempered, I had asked him to come from Paris as a gift for my wife, and whilst I was in Southampton recently I met him there.”

 

“You must think highly of your wife.” Allison said it in a sneer, this man had taken control so completely the idea that his wife controlled him seemed ludicrous.

 

“Perhaps it is simply that we have been wed barely this six months past but I am delighted by her.” His expression looked a little distant, “tell me, Miss Argent, are you married, or engaged?”

 

The conversation had taken a tone that Allison did not care for. “I am engaged by my mother’s will to Vidama Yukimura.”

 

He made a nod as if he was expecting something, “I was led to believe by my nephew, who is washing up for supper, that Mr McCall was wooing Vidama Yukimura.” Allison nodded, “but I was hoping instead for some information, for my nephew is close lipped, it appears he has designs upon one of the servant girls in this house, do you know which?”

 

“We only have two.” Allison answered, “Demelza and Heather. There are other servants, but all of the others are married and have been caught in town by the state of the roads at present, they come in the morning and leave in the evening.”

 

“Demelza was the child with the red curls was she not?” Sir Peter asked. “The one who swallows all of her aitches.”

 

“Yes, that is Demelza, Heather is the fair haired one who speaks better and watches over Melchizadek.” Allison had no idea where this was going.

 

“My nephew has clearly spent so much time with McCall if he thinks that he might run away with a servant girl, he is, after all, currently the heir to the Hale fortune when there are a hundred or so more suitable candidates, perhaps not as suitable as Vidame Stilinski but certainly better suited than a servant girl who has no wealth or title to recommend her.”  Allison could tell it was not the suggestion of the girl being a beta merely that Sir Peter was one of those old fashioned society alphas who thought about the family before they thought about things like gender. Her mother had been cast out simply because she was a beta so a weight lifted off Allison’s temper at that knowledge. She was not to know but the Hales had worked hard for beta representation in parliament and giving betas the vote, not omega, they were not that progressive, but they did not discriminate against betas.

 

“But I suppose if she makes him happy I will support the marriage, or my dear wife will harangue me with exhortations of the virtues of love, and I would hate to disappoint her as nothing brings me joy more than her own delight.” Sir Peter had not struck Allison as the sort to be devoted or as gauche to admit to love within his marriage. She had heard words in Truro that the Hales were revolutionary but that Sir Peter was a rake and a card sharp, not that he had married for something as remarkable as love. Even with her brief acquaintance with him she had expected him to be more the type to marry as payment for a debt. Everything about him screamed of wealth, even the way he held the pewter mug of what he claimed to be tea.

 

“Sir Peter,” Josiah said from the doorway, he looked travel worn and weary, having just ridden in from town where he served as magistrate, “we were not expecting you.” There was a comment left unsaid there about how no one recently had bothered to inform him that they might be coming to stay, and his was not the sort of household that people often visited.

 

“It has been a long time, Josiah,” Sir Peter replied, “you are looking well, I had intended to travel with my nephew to make sure that his terseness did not impede his courtship and that if they despised each other it was for who they were and not my nephew’s complete lack of social etiquette, but although I wonder at times if he was not raised by wolves and not my sister, he arrived before me and managed it well enough on his own.”

 

At that as Allison watched Josiah laughed which surprised her greatly. “I would not have called your sister a wolf, for she was certainly a much more graceful predator, it was her nature to run her prey to ground as I recall, she was certainly not one to rely on others to get her goal.”

 

“She did share well though,” Sir Peter said. “The leftovers from her kills were delicious.” And Josiah laughed again, “it has been too long, Peter, your letters did not make me realise how much I missed your humour.”

 

“Yes, your wife was never given to wit, unlike dear Claudia, god rest her soul.” Peter said and the two of them continued to talk as if Allison were not even in the room.

 

\---

 

Victoria was in the foulest of moods when she returned to Hardcastle Hall and was prepared to take it out on the hide of her daughter who had gone too far this time, not only abandoning her mother in a taproom like a common doxy but taking Kira with her, and it was clearly not to elope. She had clearly allowed her too much freedom and spoiled her. Perhaps a year or two in the Americas would take the mischief from her, because her father had certainly not been so impish. Victoria was mud from her heels to her knees, and her skirt might very well be ruined, but her shoes certainly were. It was not a far walk but walking through the fields had seen it made more difficult by the freshly turned earth, with the last of the years crops folded into the soil, and the determination to make sure the earth was easier to turn by watering it. She was not sure there was not mud in her hair.

 

“Heather!” she hollered as she opened the door, “fetch me a bath and a large carafe of coffee.” She considered adding, “and the head of my daughter upon my black glass platter.”

 

“Wife,” Josiah said, “we have guests.” He said it firmly, “can you not hold your tongue until we are in private.”

 

“Hold my tongue?!” Victoria had had enough. “I find myself hostess to an alpha determined that he will not accept any marriage because of the sins of the family that cast myself and my daughter out, and is causing mischief by stealing Kira’s jewellery knowing that I cannot accuse him, and then there is McCall whose purpose I am yet to fathom, and my daughter is a wilful brat who is determined to see me in an early grave.”

 

“You go too far, madam,” Josiah said firmly, “all of the mischief that this house has seen has been the work of your daughter in her determination not to marry by your will and now you are shrieking loud enough that the entire county knows your business whilst you act like a woman who has lost her wits and behaves like a common fishwife.”

 

In the ten years since their marriage of convenience Josiah had never spoken thusly to her and she was shocked into silence. “We shall speak to the children about this, but first you shall clean yourself up and make yourself presentable, then you will remember your place. You might have indulged your daughter but it is clear that in my indulging you I have done us all wrong.” So shocked was Victoria by this behaviour that she just agreed politely and went to see if Heather had brought her water for her bath yet.

 

Surprised that Victoria had actually gone so meekly Josiah went back into the parlour where Sir Peter was now arguing, quietly and coldly, with his nephew over his desire to marry a servant girl.

 

“I thought you intended to marry my son.” Josiah burst out, for he had thought, judging by Stiles’ discourse with him over the previous days that this was his intent, and this of course worsened matters as Josiah now truly believed his son might have been deflowered by this man, although he was yet to see him and the pale shadow around his mouth and chin where the violent cream was doing a poor job. Convinced there was nothing to be done for it, and that he would spend the whole evening farting like a mule, Josiah opened the port.

 

“No, sir,” Derek said politely, “I have spent only a few moments in his company and although I found him most agreeable I had made such a show of myself that I could not continue, in good faith, to court him, but in your employ I found the most marvellous girl, and I wish to make her my wife.”

 

Josiah thought his reaction of shouting for Demelza, just like Victoria had done for Heather, to be a perfectly acceptable response. He might need the rum to mix with his port before this day was done. When she appeared, dropping a low and clumsy curtsey to Sir Peter like he was the king, he sent her to find both his son and the rum, Mrs Havers knew how he liked it, as an addendum he told her to bring Allison, Kira and McCall and he would, with everyone in the room get this mess sorted out. Or very drunk. He was still unsure which. Or if he should rule out the achievement of both.

 

“I love her, uncle,” Hale was continuing “and I will see her wed.”

 

“Derek,” Sir Peter said in his most patronising tone, “my concern for you is not that you do not know your own mind but that she might be a charlatan set to dupe you of your fortune.”

 

“I cannot say that of the girls in my employ,” Josiah offered, “they are good girls and would not do such.” He felt the need to defend them for they had grown up with their parents in his employ and he looked upon them as slightly better behaved children than those he could claim.

 

“Everyone given the opportunity would do so,” Sir Peter said calmly. “It is human nature to want more than we have.”

 

“Be that as it may,” Josiah countered, he was a magistrate, he understood a lot about human nature and what could be trusted about it.

 

“Papa,” Stiles said opening the door, “you wished to see me.”

 

Josiah guided the boy in, he was dressed well, but the skin around his mouth and on his neck was suspiciously pale, as if he had smeared some sort of cream over it, or face paint, although Josiah had, at the time, more important concerns, but Sir Peter noticed it, stroking his mouth and neck as he looked at the boy. He wore a red coat and black breeches over white stockings and his hair was demurely curled over the low points of his ears. “This is Sir Peter Hale,” Josiah introduced them, “Mr Hale’s uncle, Sir Peter, this is my son.” Sir Peter looked at the boy like he was sizing him up at market.

 

“And this is not the one you wish to marry, nephew?” Sir Peter asked.

 

“No,” Derek said and Stiles’ heart went into his mouth, he had thought that Derek and he were forming a fine strong bond that would end in marriage. “I told you, I wish to marry Stiles.”

 

“I am Stiles.” Stiles told him, a little flummoxed that Derek did not recognise him.

 

“You are Melchizadek.” Derek corrected him. “And I have only shared a single conversation with you.”

 

“Which is why everyone calls me Stiles.” Stiles said, “and over the past few days we have shared several, why only this afternoon I told you about my father’s long argument with Grandfather trout and you proposed asking my father for my hand in marriage.”

 

“He has been here extolling the virtues of this Stiles since I saw him.” Sir Peter added from behind his pewter cup.

 

“But Stiles wore a dress.” Derek said, the words had abandoned him and left him gaping like a fish.

 

“Yes, my step mother has tried these years past to teach me humility by having the town accept me as an unwed beta girl.” He scraped his hair back as it had been when it was in the cap, “I have never been able to dissuade her from the practise but any in this household will tell you that Stiles is I and I am Stiles. If you wish,” Derek was clearly without words in his presence, “I shall rush upstairs and find a dress to show you.”

 

“Yet your step mother has been nothing but determined that I am here to marry Vidama Yukimura.”

 

“And that will be the hand of Miss Argent,” Josiah said, “she has confided in me only this morning that her mother is trying to force her to marry Vidama Yukimura that I might end this proposal of hers that Vidama Yukimura might be courted by McCall in the hope that they might marry. I see I have been too indulgent in my treatment of Victoria, for although she has run this house well she is overcome with fear when it comes to the children. She informed me she thought that young Derek was a lecher when I know the reputation in question belonged to Sir Peter.” Sir Peter made a noise of easy acknowledgement as if to say it was likely that the reputation was his own, and that he had had fun earning it. “And that Hale had tried to steal Vidama Yukimura’s jewels.”

 

“She accused me of that.”

 

“I suspect that was Miss Argent,” Josiah said, “attempting to deflect attention away from McCall that he might elope with Vidama Yukimura, but I have been very busy with my duties and helping to clear the roads.” He sat down and poured himself more port. “I have, in this, been delinquent as a father.” He then emptied his cup. “Hale, would you like to marry my son? If so I can send for the parson and have him start to read the banns tomorrow.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Derek answered.

 

“Stiles, do you wish to marry this man?”

 

“Yes, papa, I do, although I would prefer not to wear a dress to do so.” Sir Peter laughed at least Stiles was pleased to notice.

“Then we should celebrate, I shall ask Vidama Yukimura the same question, and if she wishes to marry McCall, although I do think she is more likely to want to wear a dress..”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spoon!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay this chapter looked to run incredibly long so i split it into two  
> the plan is to write the other half tomorrow so you'll get the end of it this week, ideally

With the knowledge that Stiles was Melchizedek and that both were agreeable to the wedding everything was put together very fast. Stiles finally got to see Truro as his father and his groom’s uncle whisked him to one of the finest modistes in Cornwall. It all happened very quickly and soon enough for there were only days before the wedding.

Kira, to everyone’s surprise had told Josiah she wasn’t sure if she wished to marry McCall yet, as she would like more time to get to know him without Victoria’s draconian insistence that she marry Allison, which Josiah had annulled after speaking to both of them. So Kira had asked, cognizant that Josiah was feeling guilty over his own inattention to his wife’s machinations, after all he had been assured that it was what the two of them had wanted, and been given permission to spend the season in London with Aunt Frideswed, who had come to Hardcastle as soon as she had heard that Stiles was to wed.

This had meant everyone had decamped to Ellesmere because, after all, it was bigger, Frideswed said in the same bullying tone as Victoria preferred, and her nephew was only getting married once, this was said with a dark glance at Hale as if daring him to contradict her by doing something as gauche as dying.

Frideswed was a bull of an alpha, determined to have her way and so Stiles found himself agreeing to things that he might not otherwise, like he needed a going away outfit when, as far as he knew, he wasn’t going anywhere, and the more he got caught in the whirlwind of wedding breakfasts of food he could not choose and wine selections that meant nothing to him the more despondent he became, despite being a bride. He didn’t get to see Derek, because apparently it was bad luck, and between Victoria and Frideswed, and the argument between them over violets from Somerset and tulips from Amsterdam for the table, which at any moment looked like it might explode into blows, Stiles just got more and more sure that Derek had agreed to marry him because he was caught in the moment, and now neither of them could get out of it.

What if Derek wanted a beta girl, and was caught because of the mistake he had made, thinking Stiles was a beta girl when he had dismissed Melchizedek the omega boy, and because he had admitted that he wished to marry Stiles he was caught by propriety into marrying Melchizedek. The three weeks in which the parson took to read the banns just made it worse, Derek sent notes that were curt and polite instead of the effusive protestations of love that Stiles had thought to expect from the sort of novels Victoria ordered from London.

Soon enough it was the morning of the day before the wedding and Ellesmere, which was not his home, was dressed for the wedding and the celebration and everyone who was even vaguely known to his aunt was arriving that they might attend his wedding and he did not know who any of these people were. Suddenly he longed for the anonymity of his hated skirts. Alphas leched over him and omegas cooed over him, saying how delighted he must be to be married, and to be married so well, to a Hale, and wasn’t he handsome, and virile, and Stiles felt like he might cast his accounts on the carpet, which his aunt was keen to remind him was from Turkey, and she would much prefer not having to replace it.

So he was disconsolate as he took a walk about the gardens of Ellesmere, with the voice of Alpha Whittemore’s unmarried son, Jackson, in his ear about how nice it would be to inherit Ellesmere and it’s riches, and how lucky, and he had lingered over that word like a caress, to marry so well.

“You look as if you are contemplating drowning yourself in the ornamental lake,” Sir Peter said startling Stiles out of his misery.

“I shall make sure to do it tomorrow, sir, so as not to interfere with your nephew’s inheritance.” Stiles answered, but to his surprise Sir Peter laughed. Sir Peter’s wife, Lydia, was a small omega, standing almost a foot shorter than Stiles, but she had willingly thrown herself between Aunt Frideswed and Victoria in saying how things were supposed to be. Stiles could not fault Sir Peter for hiding in the gardens, when he himself was doing so.

Sir Peter was sat on one of the wooden benches in front of one of the small pools that formed lines around the property, like dots, each of which had a fountain, although they had been turned off for the winter. He had not bothered with a great coat, and had instead pulled a thick shawl over his superfine coat as if he was an omega. Stiles himself had a knitted cape over his shoulders, and woolen gauntlets over his wrists.

“My nephew I am quite sure is unaware that you bring Ellesmere with you.” Sir Peter said, “but such things mean little to him, I am sure that by now you have had at least one conversation about horse flesh and his apple orchards.” Stiles looked at Sir Peter as if he had spoken in tongues, he had had those conversations with Derek and had thought that it was simply a shared fascination. “Given the opportunity my nephew can be quite a bore, with those things he finds interesting he does not realise that most do not care about the splicing of Turkish apple to cox apple trees, and leave him an opening and he will drive away even the most devout attempt to secure his attention.”

“Turkish apple is a tea, Sir, made from dried apple peels” Stiles said, “and I thought he was splicing his quince tree to the cox.”

Sir Peter laughed, and it was a cruel sound but it was not ill intended. “Oh you are perfect for him,” he said, taking Stiles’ hands in his own and urging him to sit on the bench next to him. “I had thought that he was perhaps a touch eager, but you are simply perfect.” He seemed delighted by this, “I had thought you had perhaps, at best, learned to tune him out, but you are actually interested.”

“I am from Cornwall, sir, scrumpy might run through my veins, as such I know about apples.”

Peter seemed amused, but his nature seemed to be a cruel sort of amusement. He was the sort of man who enjoyed manipulations and believed you should be grateful for such attentions. How he had married a woman like Lydia Hale who had no patience for such things Stiles did not know. “We must not stand on ceremony, soon we are to be related and I shall be your uncle also, although Lydia does not care for the fact that her nephew is older than her, and soon to marry one that is almost her age.” Lydia was nearly a year older than him, but she had come out in society and was holding her own with Aunt Frideswed and Victoria in their rows.

“Shall I call you Uncle Peter then?” Stiles asked archly, “or shall I call you what Derek does?”

“Most of what my nephew calls me is uncomplimentary.” Sir Peter confided. “However he is smitten with you, he has even voluntarily sought out my company to extol your virtues.”

Stiles let out a breath he had not known that he was holding in. “I had worried that he was caught in propriety.” He said in a low whisper.

Peter rubbed his thumb over Stiles’ palm to ease him, like he was a child. “My nephew is head over tea kettle over you.”

“But I’m an omega boy and he fell in love with a beta girl.” Stiles said. It was the first time he had made his fear vocal, he had just pressed it down before now.

“My nephew is many things, Stiles,” he said, “but he is not so shallow, he has no care of what case your mind comes in for it is that he is in love with.” Stiles if anything looked more upset. “Do you know when he first saw you he thought you were beautiful.” Peter knew about society omega, they wanted to be flattered. “In fact he thought you were so lovely that you would have no time for a boor like him.”

Stiles went to interrupt but Peter cut him off. “My nephew _is_ a boor, he’s shy and covers it with anger as I’m sure you know, but he wished to be married, he wished to love and be loved in return, and hopefully to have children with the person that loved him. Do you hear, Stiles, that he did not care for the form of the person, only that they were someone he loved, and he fell in love with a someone who listened to him, and who asked him about his projects and had the loveliest neck, and long legs.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow as if he did not believe him. “He has seen you in pants as well as skirts remember, my nephew has always preferred necks and legs to breasts. I was always a breast man, I find little less beautiful than a soft pillowy pair of breasts,” he gestured in front of him, “and my own idea of heaven is to lay with my head between such, a round little bottom is also a delight, where my nephew prefers a long sensitive neck and long shapely legs, both of which you have.” Stiles was blushing, one did not talk about such things with an omega, certainly one not on the cusp of marriage to another alpha. “You have a quick wit, a lovely neck, a fine pair of thighs and you love my nephew, what else can matter?”

“He thought that I was a beta girl.” Stiles tried to explain this. “What is charming sauciness in an omega is terrible willfulness in a beta, I know the lessons that Victoria tried to teach me, but how do I not know that he does not wish that pleasant submission of a beta.”

Peter could not help himself, he burst out laughing. “Do you wish to cancel this wedding,” he asked when he had regained control of himself. Stiles shook his head. “Neither does my nephew, he is.” Peter paused for a moment, “think of it this way, Stiles, you are a lock and he is a key, it does not matter what the door looks like.” Stiles was surprised by the frank description. “You do know why his dear sister lives on the continent?” It was a question and Stiles shook his head. “She eloped with another alpha, convinced some bishop or other that she was an omega and were halfway to Vienna before it was found out. As a family, Stiles, we are wilful and marry where we will, not where we ought. You are the first responsible match our family has made in decades.” It was meant as a joke, “and with Cora coming out to society next year I fear what she will bring home, and we shall smile and shake their hands and do it because Cora loves them. As a family we do not care for gender or sex, one likes who one likes, and my nephew adores you.” Stiles could feel the weight lifting off his shoulder, “and I must admit his dalliances tended to be with beta boys so when he said he was smitten with a beta girl I wondered if he was mistaken.”

Stiles did not look best amused, “now, as your uncle I must ask, do you have any questions about the wedding night?” this was asked with a leer, “perhaps questions about the night rail and appropriate nature of washing before bed?” Stiles was horrified for a moment before he decided that Peter was teasing him.

“I intend to continue my walk, although I do think my aunt would appreciate it if you distracted your wife with those thoughts, last I heard they could not decide if they were going to use the pewter platters or the glass ones, or whether people could be trusted to bring their own knives and spoons meaning that my aunt would not need to get hers out of storage.” Stiles said stiffly.

“I always bring my own spoon.” Peter said with a leer that was so exaggerated and transparent that Stiles himself laughed before shaking his head and leaving to continue his walk through the gardens.

\---

After supper Stiles took Heather’s offer to help him prepare for bed. He had had a glass of sherry for his nerves felt frayed and he could not help but fidget as she brushed his hair, earning himself a smack on the shoulder with the flat of it. Stiles did not have long hair, such as Heather or Kira did, he wore it just long enough to curl around his ears when it was not swept back from his face, freshly washed in preparation for the morning it was lying flat and fluffy down over his forehead. He was wearing a thick flannel nightrail and dressing gown, and thick bed socks. If people had images of an omega the night before the wedding this was not what they had in mind. There was a fire in the grate and he still felt cold. It was well known that omegas felt the cold more keenly than betas or alphas, but Heather had conceded that the bridal chamber in Ellesmere was freezing. Since they had moved to Ellesmere Stiles had been put in the bridal chamber, which was lushly decorated with blue wall silks and dark blue velvet upholstery, so that his husband would join him. Clearly the architects had come to the decision to ensure a proper bedding by making the room too cold to do anything but cleave to each other.

Omegas ran cold, alphas ran hot, so knotting was clearly the best answer to balancing out heat, especially in rooms designed to be this cold, although it was beautiful, perhaps curtains over the windows and shutters would warm the room some, but it was cold and he felt out of sorts and his hair was damp but his nightrail was thick and warm. He was covered from heel to cuff, both with a pretty lace, and a collar was folded over over his shoulders. He should have been toasty warm.

When Heather took the bench that he might brush her hair, a concession that they had worked out years before, when Stiles had cut away his long hair after his mother had died, but they liked the closeness that it brought them. He was well trained in how to braid her, and had done better than Kira’s maid for some of the more elaborate hair styles. After he had tugged on her hair painfully the third time she sighed. “You are more upset about this wedding than I had thought,” she shrugged.

“Sir Peter tried to reassure me that Derek does not care that I am not a beta, but, I think I need to hear it from him.”

Heather turned and looked at him, “then go ask him, quickly, whilst you can still be mistaken for a servant girl, and you better come back quickly.” She gave him a firm glare, “it is bad luck to see him after midnight and it is nearly eleven now.”

Stiles looked at her in the peer glass and then kissed her on the head, “you, madam, are a goddess.” He said, taking her night cap from the bed where she had lain it in preparation for bed - to prevent him being visited in the night by either Hale, or an opportunistic Whittemore (whom no one put it past as he really rather liked Ellesmere) it was well known about the house that Stiles would be sharing his bed with Heather until the wedding and she could and would scream like the house was on fire if anyone attempted anything. It was repeated several times in front of Whittemore senior, because truth be told Whittemore junior had no more intent to seduce Stiles than Stiles had to be seduced.

Pulling a blanket from the counterpane, the room was cold enough he had added his shawls to the covers as soon as he started to undress, he crept out into the corridor, hoping that if anyone saw him he could be mistaken for a maid, and then past his father’s chamber, past Victoria’s chamber, where he was more likely to be caught, and across the landing to the room where Derek had been placed, knocking lightly before stealing inside.

Derek was also half undressed, he had shirked off his waistcoat coat, and boots and was wearing only his stockings, pants and shirt which was open at the collar. “Stiles?” he asked. “Should you be here? it’s bad luck.” He said.

“Do you want me here?” Stiles asked in a small voice, “I,” and Derek just gave him a soft smile and opened his arms to him. Stiles was not ashamed of how quickly he dove into the offered embrace.

They stood there for long minutes, Derek’s rooms were much warmer than the ones that Stiles had been put in and Derek smelled safe and warm and it felt so natural to have his arms around him, even if Stiles was wearing the thickest night rail he owned, a dressing gown and a shawl. He was so covered the only part of his skin touching Derek was his face in his neck where he had to almost lean down to do it - they were of a height after all. Eventually Derek tumbled them into a chair, it had a low rounded back, like a chaise, but the seat was wider. It was a knotting chair, Stiles realised, designed to comfortably take two people in comfort for a period of time. It felt perfectly natural to share this chair with him. “Uncle Peter said you were fretting over nothing,” Derek said nuzzling into Stiles’ temple with his mouth, but not kisses, just soft bussing. “But then wouldn’t tell me what it was, only that there was a spoon and burst out laughing.”

The whole day after meeting Peter in the gardens he had kept showing Stiles that he had his own spoon which eventually became the funniest joke Stiles could imagine. Peter only had to lift his spoon, catch Stiles’ eye and the two of them devolved into giggles like there were not the cream of Cornish society sat at the table.

“I worry that you have been trapped in this wedding,” Stiles said quietly, “that because you announced you wished to marry Stiles and did not know that I was Stiles as well as Melchizedek, that you might not wish to continue but were caught up by my father’s enthusiasm, and then my aunt appeared and your aunt appeared and before we knew it everything was arranged and.” Derek pressed his finger to Stiles mouth.

“I left everything to them because it made them happy for me to do so, not because I did not care.” He said calmly.

“Do you hate that I am a boy?” Stiles said in his smallest voice.

“I ardently adore you,” Derek told him calmly, “your throat haunts my dreams and your hands, I have walked into walls when you walked past in white pants. I do not hate that you are a boy, I love that you are Stiles and I cannot wait until tomorrow when we are married. If i did not think that your Heather would be after me with a fire poker I would invite you to stay tonight, to show you how much I do not care that you are a boy.” There was a hint of lust in that, and Stiles kissed him.

“Tomorrow,” he said, extricating himself from Derek’s arms, “tomorrow.”


	12. Chapter 12

The following morning dawned bright and clear although a full inch of snow had fallen through the night, proving Josiah correct when he had said it was unseasonably cold. However Stiles was not one to correct his father about how it was late November and snow was not that unusual at that time of year.

As Stiles descended to join his father in the short walk to the altar, Ellesmere had it’s own parish church almost next to the house, where the villagers could come and pray as well as the staff, Jonathan Whittemore appeared out of nowhere to startle him. “Why aint you as pretty as a picture? almost as pretty as Ellesmere itself.”

Stiles suddenly lamented the fact that the knife he carried in the garter of his skirt was currently on his dressing table as there was no place in his outfit to carry it. Whittemore was not dangerous, per se, what he was was greedy, uncouth and had a terrible sense of entitlement that made him a bully. The last time Stiles and he had crossed paths Whittemore had been dealt a blow to the ballocks and a drive home with a very incensed alpha aunt.

But before Stiles could answer Peter appeared out of the corridor, “hello, Stiles,” he said brightly, “I was just coming to fetch you.” And with that he blanked Whittemore entire. He put his arm on Stiles’ biceps and moved him towards the door. “If that man says another word to you that is against your will let me know.” Peter told him in a low voice, like among conspirators, “I am not sure he was invited and it is his nature to have come only because others have.”

“The last time he tried to talk to me alone I kicked him in the ballocks.” Stiles told him, “he might hold a grudge.” 

“Every time we talk I find myself liking you more and more.” Peter said with a smile, “now come along, I imagine the church is cold and we don’t want people to leave waiting for you.”

\---

Derek’s breath caught when the doors at the rear of the chapel opened to reveal Stiles. Lydia had done her best and it was superb, clearly. He wore a dark rose coloured jacket over a golden vest and pants. Derek had never seen anything so lovely and he couldn’t help but smile. He understood now why Lydia had bullied him into the dark green superfine coat that would so elegantly complement what Stiles was wearing but all Derek could see was the flush of cold on his cheeks, and the faint hint of something shy in his smile. Derek could not believe this was happening, he was going to be wed to this amazing boy by the unpleasant and bilious vicar who could not have been more honoured right now by being chosen than if he had been Christ himself.

And Derek’s joy was so overwhelming he had no idea what was happening except he did what they told him to do. He took Stiles hand and placed the ring upon it when he was told and felt Stiles put the ring upon his own. He said what he was told to say but he could not have said later what the words were, and then Peter was smiling at him and congratulating him and walking the two of them, with kisses on their cheeks, and embraces. Derek could not help but just nod and agree with him, as he pushed the two of them into the dining room where a feast had been laid out for them.

He couldn’t take his eyes of Stiles, and Stiles, managed to talk to everyone, and laid his hand on Derek’s thigh and Derek was overcome. He had heard of such things in novels, of course, and the poetry that was popular, but he had not thought that they might be correct. The simple idea that he might be so overwhelmed with joy that he might lose his mind was risible, but it was true.

So he sipped his wine and smiled, and ate his potted pheasant and smiled and was completely caught by surprise when Whittmore, an alpha he did not know from Adam made a comment about how pleased he must be to marry in the house that would one day be his own.

Fuzzy headed with delight, he took a moment to consider the words that were said and by that point his uncle had cleared his throat. It was Victoria, however, who spoke first. “Whittemore, always a delight to see you.” Her entire tone was ironic and she did not care who might judge her for it. “One could dine out on news of your faux pas for weeks, like attending a wedding to which you were not invited, although your son was, hello Jackson, always a pleasure, and insulting the groom. What is next in your repertoire? perhaps you will insinuate that Stiles is a round bride?” Her tone was getting colder and Frideswed, who had been sitting next to her was subtly moving her chair away. Victoria might have been frightening when she was angry and shouting, but she was terrifying when she went cold in her rage.

“Madam, is that your insination?” Whittemore asked, leaning forward across the table. Lydia had put her hand on her husband’s when he opened his mouth to speak.

“Whittemore isn’t it,” Lydia said calmly, “let me see” she reached into the pocket of her chartreuse gown and pulled out a book which she placed on the table.

“Where did she pull that from?” Derek whispered in Stiles’ ear.

“The pockets for dresses are awesome, you’d be surprised what you can fit in there, I don’t know why men don’t have them too.” Stiles answered.

By that point Lydia had flicked to the appropriate page. “Oh of course, the solicitor who married a gentleman’s daughter, how could I forget,” she said it sweetly, “gambling seems to be a problem, and with your son inheriting from his mother it leaves you quite without money does it not,” her mouth made a moue of distrust, “Ellesmere must have been a tempting prospect, but there is nothing worse than trying to compromise one when you are still wearing a band of mourning.” She sat back in her seat, taking her fan from her pocket she batted it against her cheek, “what is one to do in situations like that? why I suppose nothing is left but complaints about your betters.” She batted at her husband’s hand when he went to reach for the book. 

“I don’t have to stay here to be insulted.” He said, standing up.

“Then leave.” Victoria said in her icy voice. “You were not invited and relied upon our good manners that you were not cast out in the road like the dog you are.”

“Come along, Jackson.” Whittemore said pushing his chair back hard enough it made a loud noise against the stone floor.

“Actually,” Jackson said calmly, “I think I’d like to stay,” unembarrassed by the scene Jackson popped a piece of potted pheasant into his mouth and chewed.

When Whittemore left Stiles burst out laughing, “oh that was wonderful,” he said, “I must thank you, I was close to simply throwing the gravy boat at his head, but that was much better.”

“Stiles,” Derek asked, “who was that?” He was a little baffled at the rather resounding sending off the man had gotten from most of the table.

“Ah, nephew,” Peter said, sipping his wine, “that was the man who forced your bride into a closet and tried to compromise him this past spring.”

Derek’s hand tightened around Stiles, almost tight enough to hurt. “It is good that you sent him away,” he said, “or I would have been forced to call him out.”

Stiles turned and kissed him on the cheek. “Am I a bad person for liking that?” he asked, “although I do not wish you to be involved in many duels.” Stiles was immediately thinking of how he had seen Derek in the stables all those weeks ago, and decided he liked the stink of labour about his husband. 

“Not in public, dear,” Derek answered and watched in wonder as Stiles laughed, and Derek was delighted that he would get to share this for the rest of his life. Stiles might not have meant to woo him by wearing skirts, but Derek was glad that he had. He was grateful for all the drama and misunderstanding that had seen him married to this amazing boy, and perhaps, Derek thought to himself, he would be a round bride when Kira bored of being a jewel of society and married McCall, they would need to start early if they had as many children as Derek wanted.

“what are you thinking about?” Stiles asked him, “you looked a little distant there, love.” And how wonderful Derek found it that Stiles called him love.

“Children, I know we have not mentioned it but I would like a rather large brood.” 

Stiles nodded, “five?” he asked, Derek made a move with his head, “more, eight?” Derek made the gesture again, “ten?,” he was starting to sound a little incredulous. “More?!” he had pressed his thighs together.

“I was thinking twelve or so,” Derek said, “I came from a big family, it will be nice to be surrounded by children again, “maybe fourteen.”

Stiles thought about it as he chewed on a piece of bread. “You’re not having more than twelve, it would ruin your figure.” And then it was Derek’s turn to laugh. “But I do not want so many that I would have to keep them leashed to each other that they might not wander off, perhaps six.”

Derek reached over and pressed his finger to Stiles’ lips to silence him. They had time, they had, to Derek’s delight, all the time in the world.

 

epilogue

Fourteen children later…. Stiles got his own bedroom but he never slept in it. Derek, surrounded by children and his bride, was delighted.


End file.
